


Welcome to Whoever you are

by CelticCross



Category: Bon Jovi
Genre: F/M, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-05-23 09:57:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 38,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14932064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticCross/pseuds/CelticCross
Summary: Newly divorced and shell shocked Jon is involved in a car accident and when the woman he hits develops total amnesia, he finds himself wanting to take care of her, especially as she has no idea who he is. What neither of them realise is that she was running away from a serial killer when his car hit her and now the killer knows what they both look like...





	1. Superman Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There's something about you  
> I wanna rescue  
> I don't even know you  
> So what does that mean  
> Maybe I'm cynical  
> I'm painfully logical  
> You're tragic and beautiful  
> And that's good enough for me"

Chapter One  
It was cold. Bitterly cold. A fierce north wind was whipping through, causing everyone who’d braved the elements to snuggle into their overcoats wrapping their scarves tighter, burrowing gloved hands into pockets and pulling hats down over exposed ears. There was a palpable excitement in the air. A young woman stood apart from the main crowd as they gathered along the roadside. She too was cold but also excited. She looked around at the people near to her and smiled. Families, couples, single people; old and young alike, all gathered for the Thanksgiving Day Macy’s parade. She had heard about it before and even seen glimpses of it on the TV show Friends but she’d never dreamed she’d one day be able to watch it live. Part of her wished she’d stayed in and watched it on TV as a particularly vicious gust of freezing air buffeted her, causing her to shiver involuntarily. She tried to burrow deeper into her long black puffa coat but the wind still found an exposed spot on her neck, under her red hair and she sighed, wishing she’d remembered to bring her knitted cap. She smiled as she remembered putting it in her huge purple handbag and with a small sigh of happiness she reached in to retrieve the cap. She pulled into, ramming it down over her ears and smiled broadly as warmth began to seep back into the tips of her ears. She was standing along with a few hundred people on the corner of 42nd street and 6th Avenue, near to Bryant Park waiting for the massive parade to pass her by.

It was her hair that brought her to his attention. Long, flowing, bright red hair. He’d not had a redhead in such a long time and wanted to add her to his collection. He stood, stock still for a moment, waiting for another sign. The last one, the brunette with purple streaks had pulled out a wallet with matching brown and purple stripes on it as she’d waited to buy a hotdog from a street vendor and in doing so had sealed her fate. He wanted a sign that this one, this redhead, was the right one. This one’s fate was sealed the moment she’d placed the bright red knitted cap on her head. His gaze never left her as she stood, alone, in a sea of people. He smiled and melted back to wait for the opportune moment. His mama hadn’t raised a fool, he knew when to strike and when to hold back and this was a holding back moment.

Jon Bon Jovi was tired. Absolutely and irrevocably bone tired. He looked at the big clock on the wall of the studio he was in and sighed. He was at Sony Music’s studio on 54th Street and was supposed to be working with a new band he’d managed to sign up but it just wasn’t working out. The lead singer wasn’t getting it and he, himself, was just screwed up and tired.

Leaning over the console and flipping a switch, he spoke from the darkness of the booth.

“Guys, it ain’t working. I’m going home.” 

There was a cold, world weariness to his voice that had the young men in the studio not daring to talk back to him. Alan Hewitt, the band’s producer, switched on the light in the booth, illuminating the two men to the band. Jon looked out at the young rock band who had stopped and were watching him with caged eyes. The lead singer was a young turk with an obnoxious attitude and a bucket full of charisma. Jon locked eyes with him and smiled to himself as he looked at a younger version of himself. He thought back to all the false starts and hiccups he’d gone through to get to where he was and shrugged. Welcome to my world. It’d do them good to go through some trials and tribulations.

Jon turned to Alan.

“Al, do what you can with these guys, I just can’t do this anymore.” He picked up his coat and record bag and walked out of the booth.

He wrapped his big leather, fur lined flying jacket around him and stepped out the back door of the studio, bracing himself against the cold. He shivered as the freezing air rushed over him and he hurried to his car, fumbling through his jeans pockets as he tried to locate his keys. He could hear yells and shouts of excitement in the close distance and, looking up in the direction of the yells, he caught sight of some large, brightly coloured inflatable and sighed.

‘Fuck, fuckin’ Macy’s fuckin’ parade. Shit. How the fuck am I gonna get out of here?’ he thought as he got into his car. It was a 1970 Chevelle SS 396 in pillar box red and it was his pride and joy. He normally kept it at home and used it for short trips into the nearby town and would only ever come into Manhattan with a limo and driver but for some reason he’d decided that morning, to drive himself in. Truth was he didn’t really want to be left alone inside his head and forcing himself to drive meant he had to concentrate on things outside of his head. He sat in the driver’s seat and switched on the ignition, smiling as he felt, rather than heard, the car hum to life. A blast of cold air hit him in the face and he fumbled with the dashboard before hitting the AC button, turning it off. He pushed his lank honey blonde hair out of his face and stared at himself in the rear-view mirror. Ice blue eyes stared back at him surrounded by relatively few crow’s feet for a man in his late forties. He smiled to himself, baring his teeth and ran his tongue over them, feeling the smooth enamel veneer under his tongue. He looked deep into his own eyes. They often say that your eyes are the windows to your soul and what he could see in his own eyes said that his soul was in deep shit. His skin looked washed out and tired, he had a line of dry skin on his forehead and he could feel stress spots beginning to erupt around his nose. He wondered why he hadn’t seen them earlier when he’d been getting ready, after his shower.

‘Did I have a shower this morning? Must have done, I always have a shower, but then my hair feels greasy and lank. Hmm, Did I even clean my teeth this morning?’ he wondered as he ran his tongue over his gums, feeling a slightly rough surface to them. He pulled on a pair of amber tinted sunglasses and with that thought in mind he gunned the car into action and pulled out of the small but secure car park behind the studios, into a small off road. He was still wondering about his teeth and whether he’d cleaned them or if he really was going mad when a flash of red and black off to his left caught his eye. With a sense of mounting horror, he watched in slow motion as his foot automatically slammed onto the brake pedal but it was too late and he watched, uselessly, as a body tumbled over the bonnet of his car and lay still on the ground.

Jon sat, momentarily stunned at what had just happened until his sense of moral duty kicked in and he got out of the car into the biting cold. He hurried round to the front of the car and stopped. His eyes widened as he looked at the body on the ground. He could tell it was a woman from the mass of bright, chestnut red hair and the small stature. He stooped down until he was kneeling beside her, his blackberry already in his hand, 911 on the dial.

“Ma’am? Can you hear me?” he asked, gingerly reaching out to touch her.

She stirred as he touched her face. He was relieved to feel the warmth in her skin and to hear a slight moan from her. At least she was alive. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, her eyes a mirror colour of his own, same sense of pain in them too.

‘Thank fuck’ he thought as he brought his phone up to press the call dial and then watched in dismay as the low battery sign flashed once and then the phone turned itself off.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, fuck!” he growled, jamming the phone back into his jacket pocket  
He stood up and looked around. They were in a small off road, somewhere near 54th street and as luck would have it there was not a soul in sight. Jon looked back at the woman, who was now groaning in pain, and wondered what would happen if he just drove off. He shook his head as he knew he’d not be able to live with himself if he did that.

He turned back to the woman and knelt back down by her side.

“Ma’am? I need to move you into my car, to get you to a hospital as my phone’s died and I can’t call an ambulance. Can you move at all?” he asked as he braced himself for the task of picking up, what could turn out to be a fatally injured person. He walked round to the passenger door and opened it.

To his immense relief she nodded and flexed her hands and feet. Jon reached under her and began to pick her up. She groaned as he righted himself, with her in his arms but kept eye contact with him. He reached the passenger side door began to gently manoeuvre her into the seat. Once he was sure she was in, he gently leant over to buckle her in. He could smell apples and after a few seconds realised it was coming from her hair. He smiled, as a picture of his daughter flashed through his head. She’d used an apple shampoo when she’d been younger. The smile went awry and he stood back abruptly, shut the passenger door and walked around to the driver’s side. He noticed a dent in the passenger’s side wing and grimaced, recalling the dull thud of her body hitting the car and the sickening crunch as she’d hit the road.

Thankfully his sat nav was plugged in and he took a few seconds to ask for the nearest hospital. He smiled wryly as he was directed to the nearest ER which by his calculation for about four blocks of where they currently were. St. Luke's Roosevelt Emergency Room 58th St and Ninth Ave. Being careful not to jolt her, he gunned the car into action and headed off towards the hospital.

Jon looked over at the woman and noticed she’d closed her eyes. ‘Shit, that’s not good.’ he thought.

“Ma’am? Can you hear me? Open your eyes ma’am. Please look at me. Please… don‘t you die on me ya hear? Come on play nice and look at me? Jeez, I don‘t usually have this much trouble getting a woman to look at me.” he intoned, his voice betraying the rising sense of panic he was feeling as he drove through the streets. He looked at her again. She still had her eyes closed. They hit a wall of traffic and Jon’s temper snapped.

“For fuck’s sake lady, open your god damned eyes!” he shouted and was jolted as she did.

Again, ice blue met ice blue. For Jon it was slightly disconcerting being on the receiving end of glare that could be his. To his utter relief the traffic moved and St Luke’s came into view.

He raced into the ER, carrying the hurt woman.

Jon raced through the packed reception and kept going until he saw a doctor. The concept of waiting in line and giving details just didn’t enter his head. He had minions that did that for him, plus he was known to be forceful on the odd occasion. It was this and the fact that the ER Doctor Jon found was a Bon Jovi fan from way back, which is why Jon and the injured woman were rushed through with nary a thought of asking him to fill in any insurance details.


	2. Wanna make a Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you don't know if you should stay  
> If you don't say what's on your mind  
> Baby just breathe  
> There's nowhere else tonight we should be"

Detective (Second Grade) Luke Sutton, Midtown North Precinct, looked up from his desk as his partner perched on the side. Luke raised an eyebrow and Detective (Third Grade) Matthew Graves slid off the desk with a sheepish grin and sat himself down on a spare chair.

Luke turned to look at Matthew.

“What’s up Graves?” he asked, feeling slight relief that his attention had been taken away from filling out expenses forms.

“We’ve got another one.” Graves said, his white blond hair flopping forward into his cherubic face, making him look like an errant schoolboy.

“Shit, that makes it three. Where was she found?” Luke asked, sitting back in his chair.

“Battery Park, near the Clinton Memorial.”

“Shit, that’s way out of left field. Are we sure she’s his?”

“M.O.’s the same. Same hacked off ponytail, slashes across the cheekbones, and those strange slashes across the abdomen. Has anyone discovered exactly what they are yet?” Graves asked.

“Oh yeah, Linda called. She says they’re runes.”

“Runes? What the fuck are they?”

“Some ancient language from Norway or Denmark or some such Scandinavian country. She’s trying to get them translated.” Luke replied, tiredness now replaced by anger.

It had been three weeks since the first victim had been found and they were no nearer to finding out the perp. Luke had been working in the homicide team for over a year and had seen his fair share of vicious attacks but this one had really gotten to him. It was the total lack of regard for the women as people and the fact that all the attacks had taken place pre- mortem, meaning every one of the victims had felt the knife carving into them before the perp slit their throats.

 

“Jon!”

Jon looked up from the magazine he hadn’t been reading to see Obie walking towards him. After the woman had been admitted, Jon had found a payphone and had called the only person he could think of who would come running and be able to help him. Obie was his right-hand man and could be counted on to do pretty much anything that was asked of him, including getting to the hospital within twenty minutes of being asked.

“Hey Obie, thanks for coming man, I couldn’t think of anyone else to call.”

“What happened JB? Are you ok? “ Obie asked, concern evident on his face.

“I’m fine Obie, I just…oh god..” he growled as the enormity of what he’d done hit him, “I hit someone with my car as I was backing out of the studios earlier.”

“Oh jeez, You sure you’re ok? You weren‘t drinking..?”

Jon shook his head, feeling a slight headache behind his eyes.

“I’m fine, but she’s..I don’t know how she is, or who she is for that matter, but…we have the same eyes Obie, of all the people I’ve ever met I’ve never met anyone who has the same eyes as me before. Don’t you find that weird?” Jon said, a broad smile on his face.

Obie was worried. It wasn’t like Jon to not be in control and hitting someone with your car definitely counted as losing control, and what the hell was he talking about eyes for? Obie looked closer at the man he called ‘boss’, although that was only when he wanted to annoy him, and saw the sheer exhaustion that he’d managed to hide for so long.

“I think you ought to go home to rest.” Obie said, careful to make it a request and not a statement as that was a sure-fire way to get Jon’s anger flowing.

“I can’t Obie, I need to make sure she’s ok,” Jon looked around, a sheepish guilty look on his face, “There’s one more thing Obie.”

“What?” Obie asked, feeling that whatever it was it wasn’t going to be good.

“I kinda gave them the impression that she’s my girlfriend.” he admitted

“What?!?” Obie said, totally at a loss why Jon would have done that.

“They wouldn’t give me any information on her as I wasn’t next of kin, so I hinted that I was.”

“Hinted? How?” Obie asked, suspiciously.

“I, er…” Jon broke off eye contact, his cheeks flushing slightly.

Obie raised an eyebrow, giving Jon his version of Jon’s stern look.

“Well, when the doc asked was I next of kin I kinda didn’t say no.

“And you came up with this all by yourself? Jesus Christ Jon! Do you know how much trouble you are going to get yourself into if this comes to light? Do they know you hit her?” Obie asked, sitting down, praying his mind would be able to take in this newer version of his boss.

“Er…” Jon began, his mouth twisting wryly.

“I’ll take that as a no then, shall I?”, Obie said, sarcastically, wondering how in the name of all things good he was going to get Jon out of this mess, and also vowing never to let his boss out in public by himself again. Ever.

“Do you want me to go and get this mess straightened out?” He asked, sighing.

Obie ran his hands across his face in utter disbelief at how incredibly stupid Jon was acting. Obie had known that the divorce had taken a lot out of Jon but he hadn’t realised just how much it had affected him.

“What about telling the doc the truth? Want me to do that for you as well?” Obie asked.

“No. I‘ll do it myself, let me just..” Jon broke off as the Doctor he’d spoken to earlier came into the waiting area.

“Doc.” Jon said, getting up from the uncomfortable seat.

“Mr Bongiovi.”

“How is she?” Jon asked, worry and concern rumpling his features. He would wait until he knew she was fine and then tell them what he’d done. He guessed he really ought to retract his earlier statement to the Policeman he’d had to speak to.

“Physically she’ll be fine. She has a fractured leg and a broken rib, which, given enough bedrest, will heal naturally.” The doctor paused causing Jon’s heart rate to accelerate.

“But?” Jon prompted, making a move towards the physician.

“She’s lost her memory.”

“What? What does that mean?” Jon asked, now on the verge of complete hysteria as the day’s events combined with his overall stress level and threatened to tip him over the edge.

“She has amnesia, but without further tests I couldn’t tell you whether it’s organic or functional.”

“Huh? Sorry you totally lost me there...organic or functional? What the fuck does that mean.”

Obie could see Jon was getting agitated. Jon always seemed to be getting agitated these days and Obie stepped up to force Jon to take a back seat; to give him time to calm down. After all it wasn’t even as if he knew this woman.

“What’s the difference between the two?” Obie asked, forcing the doctors attention away from his on the edge of a nervous breakdown boss and onto him.

Jon stepped back and took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down before the doc admitted him as well.

“Well, organic amnesia is caused by either drugs or some form of damage to the brain, such as can be caused in car accidents and is usually permanent, whereas functional amnesia is usually some form of repressed memory or a disassociation with a particular trauma and, given time and with help, the memory can be restored. As she was involved in a car accident, until the slight swelling she has on the brain has gone down and we can talk to her, we just won’t know what kind of amnesia it is. As she knows her name and is aware of where she is it’s more likely to be a functional amnesia as, well as the name says she can be fully functional and just have a hole in her memory, but if it isn’t, it’s likely she’ll be brained damaged to some extent.”

Jon sank down onto a chair and put his head in his hands. He was empty inside, not sure what he should be feeling. He’d hit someone with his car; a beautiful someone from what he could remember and because of that she could be brain damaged for life. All of a sudden, the events of the past six months and especially that day, caught up with him and, turning away from Obie and the Doc, he retched over the threadbare carpet.


	3. Something to Believe In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We were never meant to meet  
> And then we meet  
> Who knows why  
> One more stranger on the street  
> Just someone sweet passin' by  
> An angel come to save me  
> Who didn't even know she gave me  
> Somethin' to believe in"

Over the next ten days Obie saw more of St Luke’s Hospital than he’d ever wanted to. Jon had asked him to find out all he could about her but so far, the name Abby Anderson wasn’t ringing any bells. Obie was worried about his boss as something had gotten into Jon and he wasn’t going to leave this woman until he knew she was ok. Obie knew Jon could get somewhat obsessive at times but it was usually getting a piece of music right or making sure a contract was watertight. He’d never known him to get obsessed over a woman before, but then again, he reasoned, Jon had been with the same woman for almost thirty years.

Jon had sat by Abby’s bedside and read to her. Because of the swelling to her brain, coma had been induced in order to give the swelling a chance to go down and also as a painkiller, to allow her body to rest and, hopefully, recuperate.

On the first day he’d been allowed in to see her he’d brought along a book he’d picked up at home and had subsequently brought it in every day to read to her for as long as the nurses would allow. She’d been moved to a private room at Jon’s expense and all the nurses, according to Obie, were in awe at how attentive a partner he was. 

Jon didn’t so much see as feel her fingers flexing. He’d fallen asleep whilst reading to her and was softly snoring when he felt a slight, feather light touch on his forehead. He opened his eyes and stared through a swath of blond hair that had fallen across his face. At first, he wasn’t sure what he was looking at then he realised he was looking at her fingers and they were moving.

Jon shot up from the bed, ignoring the crick in his neck.

“Nurse! She’s awake!” he yelled, looking back out through the glass walls of her room to the nurse’s station outside. The blinds that afforded some privacy had been pulled back allowing the nurses outside to see in and keep an eye on her.

Jon found himself being hustled out of the room as medical staff surrounded her bed. They’d begun the process of waking her up after scans had shown the swelling on her brain had gone down; now that she’d woken up they were doing all they could to make her comfortable and to check her vital signs.

He took the opportunity to go outside for a cigarette and to check his blackberry for messages. Outside in the bitter cold, he tugged his scarf closer and took a drag off the Marlboro light. He’d gotten an email from Richie and thumbing through his contacts list pressed the call button.

“Hey man, long time no hear, how’s it going bro?” Richie’s voice boomed through the phone, bringing sunshine and warmth to Jon.

“hey Rich, what’s up?” he replied.

“Nothing…well I spoke with Obie last week and well, he’s…we’re worried about you man. He told me about your girlfriend. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even know you were dating anyone, you sly dog!” he chuckled.

Jon smiled.

“Yeah well, We’ve really only just met and we wanted to be sure before we told anyone, ya know?” the lies slipped easily off his tongue but he couldn’t stop them.

“How is she? More importantly, how are you? Have you been sleeping? Obie said you looked tired.”

“I’m ok, same shit different day, right? Abby’s just coming out of the coma she was in.”

“Coma? Shit! didn’t know about that, hell, must be rough on you man. Shit.” Richie expressed

“Well, she had some swelling on the brain and the doc thought the best thing to do while we waited for it to go down was to induce a coma. She’s got amnesia.” Jon sighed, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Oh hell man, that’s tough, especially after…”

“Yeah. Well I’d better get back inside, see how she is. Give my love to Ava and the flavour of the month.” he chuckled, preparing to disconnect the call.

“Hey Jon, I’m flying in next week to visit Ma. I’ll come over and catch up with ya, ok? Hang in there, man, I’m sure everything will be ok.” Richie said, concerned.

“Ok.” Jon hung up and, stubbing out the cigarette, made his way back into the warmth of the building.

‘Yeah, everything will be ok.’ He thought, sarcastically. ‘Only if she’s still got amnesia. If she remembers everything then I’m in the shit. I’ve lied to the docs, the police and now Richie.’

You put yourself there, you get yourself out of it. His conscience spoke.

Oh shut up! he told his conscience, When I want your opinion I’ll ask for it.

He walked back in and headed for the cafeteria. His stomach was rumbling, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten in a long while. He felt hungry for the first time in days and welcomed the thought of food and caffeine.

 

She opened her eyes as a man walked into the room. She’d seen so many doctors and nurses over the past few hours, had been through so many tests and had been poked and prodded until she’d felt like a pincushion that the last person she wanted to see right now was another doctor.

He walked towards her bed, his brows furrowed. She smiled at him, apprehensively. He didn’t look like a doctor but then again.

“Hi” he said, his voice was aged whisky and smoke.

“Hi,” she replied, thinking how handsome and yet familiar he was and wondering why he was there, “Are you another doctor?” she asked. Her voice was soft and melodic and above all, British., “You look so familiar to me, have we met before?” she pondered as her Swiss cheese brain gave her no hints.

“I’m Jon.” he said, pulling a chair over to her bedside and sitting down. He was slightly shocked to hear a British accent but looking at her face, thought it suited her.

“Oh,” she smiled broadly, showing white, even teeth, “The doc said you’d been here at my bedside since the accident. He said that we’re…dating? Of course, that would explain why I know your face.” she said, laughing softly her ice blue eyes clear and honest.

Jon looked into the woman’s face, saw the honesty and trust written there and something ignited in his soul. He wanted to help her and take care of her, get to know her.

“Yeah, it’s been low key and private but yeah.” he placed his hands on the bed and was slightly surprised when she placed one of her small hands over his and squeezed.

“Thank you.” she said, softly, “But I’m really sorry, I just don’t remember you, not really, it‘s like I know you but I don‘t. Does that make sense?”

Jon nodded.


	4. Who says you can't go home?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I spent twenty years trying to get out of this place  
> I was looking for something I couldn't replace  
> I was running away from the only thing I've ever known"

“Jon?”

He turned to look at Abby, and the low December sun shone through the bare windows, illuminating her hair with a fiery halo. Combined with her ice blue eyes the effect was striking. She’d been in the hospital for just under three weeks and, apart from the amnesia, she was fit enough to be discharged.

He walked over to her and held her hand.

“The doctor says I can go home, but the trouble is I don’t know where that is.” she looked up at him, her ice blue eyes wide and trusting.

“Darlin’ if you think I’m letting you be on your own after this you have another thing coming. You’re coming to live with me.” The words were out before he’d had a chance to think about it.

“Oh thank god. The doc was telling me earlier what would’ve happened if you weren’t here for me. I’d’ve ended up in a bed in a psych ward somewhere until my memory came back, and that just sounds heartbreakingly awful.” she looked so relieved and so full of hope and trust that the truth fled and hid behind his smile.

As Abby had a fractured leg and broken rib she was going to need a lot of care and Jon had a Limo ready and waiting for her when she was finally discharged from hospital. The doctor still had a problem with the fact that most of her paperwork was incomplete but as Jon had handed his medical insurance details over without blinking at the amount, no real fuss was taken about the incomplete records.

Jon wheeled Abby out through the double doors of the hospital and into the car park.

“Jon? Where are we going? I thought an ambulance was taking me to yours?” Abby said, smiling, even when Jon hit a bump in the road and jolted her leg. She hissed slightly through the smile and Jon looked down at her.

“Sorry baby.” he murmured as he manoeuvred her over to the black stretch Limo that was waiting patiently for them.

Abby looked at the huge car in front of her and gasped. Surely this couldn’t be for them? Jon had told her what he did for a living but still, she was quite shocked at the size of the car.

“Jon! This must have cost a fortune! You didn’t have to do this just for me.” Abby said, trying to twist around in her wheelchair to look at the handsome man behind her.

Jon just gave her his megawatt smile as the driver opened the door for them.

Abby was settled down on the long back seat, her leg propped up against the back of the seat.

They had left the hospital and were driving through heavy traffic. Jon had settled down on the side seat for the long ride to his house in East Hampton. A silence filled the car and he looked over to see if Abby had fallen asleep. Ice blue met ice blue.

“I’m sorry, we haven’t had much chance to talk over the past couple of days, what with all those bloody tests and the doctors hovering over me. Honestly you’d think I’d been in an accident or something.” Abby smiled to show she was joking to break the silence.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, fidgeting on the seat.

“Strange. But really glad to be out of that room. And I’m so looking forward to having a hair wash and a bath.” she answered truthfully, trying to twist her long hair out from behind her.

Jon reached over and helped her yank the mass of hair from where she’d been leaning on it. A faint aroma of apples hit his nose and he breathed it in deeply. Abby looked up at the man holding her hair and coughed discretely. Jon dropped her hair and sat back with an embarrassed smile.

“You’re a brave man, it hasn’t been washed in what feels like years, it must be really greasy.” Abby grinned, “I like your hair though, those caramel and honey colours really suit your skin tone and eyes.” She looked him right in the eye.

He cleared his throat and wished he had brought his sunglasses with him. Her direct stares were beginning to get to him and make him feel uncomfortable.

“Erm, strange how?” he asked, breaking the silence that had once again settled between them.

“Well, this amnesia thing is weird. Like I said to you in the hospital, I can remember certain things, things from my childhood, toys I played with and places I’ve been to but I don’t remember you or New York, or anything from the last twenty-odd years. It’s like my whole adult life has been wiped clean. I know the doctor told us that it would take some getting used to and that we’d have to go through the whole ‘getting to know you’ thing again, but it’s been a week since I woke up and I still don’t remember a thing,” She looked at him pensively, “Even my name seems strange. I mean what was I doing there in that alley way without my bag. Was I mugged? I mean that could explain why I had no ID on me. Ugh, it’s just so frustrating you know. ”

“Well, the doc said everything will seem strange to you at first but over time things might start to come back to you.” Jon wasn’t sure, as he said this, whether he wanted things to come back to her as then he’d have to deal with the massive hole he’d dug for himself. He was sure if he looked at the bottom of the hole he’d see China.

“Where did we meet?” she asked, fixing him with an ice blue stare.

The question was so unexpected that Jon choked on the diet coke he’d just taken a sip of.

Shit. Get yourself out of that one, Jonny boy.

“Oh, er, at a Music Studio.” he replied, hoping to god he wasn’t going to start sweating.

“Really? What was I doing there? Do I sing as well?” she asked. Abby couldn’t shake the feeling that this man, her boyfriend, was hiding something from her. His body language was cagey, shifty almost. She fleetingly wondered how she knew that but got caught up in Jon’s answer.

“No, I don’t think you sing, if you do you’ve never mentioned it before. You were doing admin.”

“How long ago was it that we met?” Abby was desperate to have some information about her life, even if it seemed that Jon didn’t really want to tell her.

“Not long really, we’ve been taking it slow and private, which is why, until now, no-one knew we were together. You know, making sure…”he trailed off, wondering just why in hell he was doing this. ‘You know why.’ his conscience told him but he ignored it, not wanting to follow through on that train of thought.

“And, are we sure?” Abby asked, looking at the man she’d been told, by one of the nurses, millions of women swoon over daily, taking in the tired, drawn eyes, the paleness of his skin and the pinched mouth. She wondered what was stressing him out so much and why he was with her. She knew, from looking in the mirror, that she was not a conventional beauty and knew, from looking at him, that he was. What had brought them together?

Jon just shrugged and turned away.

A small laugh broke him from his reverie. He turned to look at the woman he’d named Abby.

“It’s okay Jon, I understand. Listen you don’t have to do this.” Abby smiled at him, twisting her long red hair in her small hands. Her good leg was bent at the knee and leaning over her bad leg, to help stabilise her against the back of the seat. Jon looked at her, taking in her small frame, small-ish waistline and the impressive breasts and his heart missed a beat.

Understood? Understood what? His eyes widened with fear. There was no way in hell she knew what he’d done. Did she?

His confusion showed on his face, as she continued.

“We’ve broken up. Haven’t we? That’s why you’re uncomfortable about answering questions about us. I get it. I don’t quite get why you’re taking me home to live with you, but you don’t have to. Just drop me off at my place and we’ll say goodbye.” Abby said, smiling at the most beautiful man she’d ever seen in her life, wondering why he seemed so familiar when she knew she didn’t know him.

Jon just stared at her. Broken up? That was a new one. Hell, lady if you only knew, you wouldn’t be sat there so calm.

“Huh? No we haven’t broken up,” he began, “Truth is, we don’t really know a lot about each other. We haven’t actually seen each other that many times as I’ve been away.”

Good going Jonny, you asswipe, she handed you a get out clause and you just stared at it while your mouth ran away with ya.

His conscience turned away in disgust and walked off.

“Oh, that makes sense, I guess. I’m sorry to keep asking you all these questions but it‘s just really weird and quite frightening to have a hole where a memory should be.” Abby smiled, then hissed in pain as the Limo hit a pothole and her leg bounced on the seat.

Jon was out of his seat and kneeling by her before he knew it.

“Are you ok?” he asked, concerned.

She reached out her hand and rested it on his shoulder, for support as she struggled to get back into a comfortable position. She smiled as she felt the warmth of his skin seep through the pale brown fitted jersey he was wearing. A feeling of safety swept over her and she smiled; the first real smile for a very long time.


	5. Till we ain't strangers anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It might be hard to be lovers  
> But it's harder to be friends  
> Baby pull down the covers  
> It's time you let me in  
> Maybe light a couple candles  
> I'll just go ahead and lock the door  
> If you just talk to me baby  
> 'Til we ain't strangers anymore"

Detective Sutton stared down at the lifeless body in front of him and grimaced. She was the fifth victim of the killer the media had dubbed ‘Jack the Slasher’. Somehow someone in the media had gotten hold of a police report on the runes that were carved into the bodies. The runes that spelt out the name Jack.

He nodded to the guy from the ME’s office, telling him it was okay to take the body.

He lit a cigarette and left the area, leaving the CSI crew to their forensic searches. He knew better than to argue with a member of the CSI team, and knew well enough to get out of their way, especially when they were setting up a grid search pattern of the area where the body had been found.

He was in an area of Manhattan that locals called DUMBO, meaning ‘Down under Manhattan Bridge Overpass’. This latest victim had been called in at around 1am. An anonymous 911 call, traced to a phone box around the corner from where he was standing. As far as he knew it had already been dusted for prints. He was on his own as his partner was nowhere to be found. Detective Graves’ phone was switched off. He’d managed to cover for him so far with their Captain but if he didn’t turn up soon there was nothing Luke could do for him.

As he stared at his mobile, a car pulled up behind him.  
“Luke, I’m so sorry man, I was with a girl, ya know, and my phone switched itself off.” Graves looked at him, so contrite that Luke let it go.

“I covered for you man, if the Captain asks…”

“If the Captain asks what?” a deep gravelly voice behind the two men rang out.

Luke’s stomach clenched. Shit.

Luke turned around to see Captain Phillips standing behind him.

“Sir? What are you doing out here?” he smiled, trying to lead the man away from his question.

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing out here, apart from freezing my goddamn ass off? This is the fifth victim Sutton! You really think I’m gonna sit back and let this go to shit, with the media breathing down my neck?”, he turned to Graves,” and you, where the hell were you?”

“Sorry sir, I was ‘indisposed’ and my phone switched itself off.” Graves smiled deprecatingly.

“Fucking idiot.” Captain Phillips growled, as he made his way back to his car.

He turned and looked back at Luke.

“Anything he does I’m holding you responsible. If I catch you covering for him again I’ll have your badge as well as his, you got me?”

“Captain! What the...” Luke threw his hands up, angrily.

He watched the man walked away and turned to his partner.

“You fucking do anything like that shit again man and… you don’t wanna know. Now get the fuck away from me.” he yelled, anger spilling out from his frustration, as he got into his car and drove back to the precinct.

As he drove he went through everything they had in relation to the case.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jon eased himself into his big king size bed and lay down with a tired sigh. It had been a very long day. His conscience had been surprisingly quiet and he wondered if he’d overloaded it so much that it had given up.

Abby had been overwhelmed by the sheer size and magnificence of his home. He smiled in the dark as he recalled the look on her face when they’d driven up to the gates of his property.

 

“Why have we stopped? Are we there?” Abby asked, wearily from the back seat. The painkilling injection she’d been given at the hospital was starting to wear off and she felt tired and drained. Her lower leg hurt and her ribs ached.

Jon looked over at her. She looked drained and in a bit of pain.

“We’re here baby, just gotta wait for the gates to open, then we’re home.”

“Gates? Just how big is your house?” she asked, her eyes widening at the thought of having gates to a property. The only house she could recall was the house she’d grown up in as a kid, and that had been a typical three up, two down council end of terrace. The only gate that had been on that property was a small, dark brown wooden gate on the side of the house that led to the back garden.

As the gates opened the car moved forward slowly. Jon pressed a button opening the darkened window, allowing Abby to see the house in all its glory as they drove slowly along the gravel drive. Dark green coniferous trees lined the route as they drove along the winding road. She could smell the pine fragrance from the trees, brought in on a puff of cold air. Abby let out a shriek as they coasted the crest of the drive and Jon’s house was revealed to her. They were driving parallel to the house up to a small roundabout that also led off to the stables and to the small music studio he’d had built on the property.

The house was magnificent. It was an impressive two storey brick and wood edifice with a one storey wing on either end. Perfectly trimmed shrubs and hedges lay in ranks outside the front, alongside perfectly manicured lawns, that ran either side of each wing. It was, she thought, entirely too big a house for just one person.

 

Abby was rendered speechless. The house was huge, bigger than she could ever have imagined. The car stopped outside the huge, glass lined, wooden framed double doors. The car door opened and Jon got out first, careful not to bang into her. He reached in and with a bit of trial and error he managed to help Abby get into a sitting position from where she could edge to the door in order for him to help her out of the car.

As it was her lower left leg than had been fractured she was, with the aid of crutches, able to walk. Jon went on ahead and opened the doors wide enough so that she could get through them comfortably.

“Welcome to my house.” he dead panned as she crossed the threshold and then stopped dead, gaping at the scene in front of her.

The entire central lower area, except for a room off the right of her at the front of the house, was open plan. Just off to the left of her an ornate wooden staircase swept up to a mezzanine level wood and glass platform that lead out of her sight.

Abby was so engrossed at looking up at the glass and wood bridge as she passed underneath it she bumped into Jon. He put his hands out to steady her and accidentally brushed the side of her breast. His posture stiffened slightly as he did so hoping that she hadn’t noticed.

Abby smiled up at Jon as he helped to steady her. She turned to look at the room they were standing in and gaped. It was stunning. A large bank of windows ran along three sides of the room giving her an uninterrupted 180-degree view of the ocean beyond. A vast, dark brown suede sofa dominated the room. She was so tired so just wanted to sink into it and sleep for a week. She smiled as she thought she’d been doing just that at the hospital and now she was out she wanted to do it again.

“What’re you smiling at?” Jon asked as he watched her reaction to his house.

“Oh nothing, just thinking I want to snuggle down on that sofa of yours and sleep for a week. It made me smile as that’s all I’ve been doing lately, sleeping.”

“Well let’s get you onto the sofa and then, what do you say to something to eat?” he grinned as he helped her out of the jacket he’d lent to her back at the hospital.

Abby’s stomach grumbled in response and she giggled as he helped her get comfortable on the large plush sofa. He plumped up a cushion and put it behind her for her to be able to lean back in comfort. He eyes the clothes she was wearing. One of his old jerseys and a pair of his old combat trousers with the drawstring pulled in tight.

“Tomorrow, I’m getting you some new clothes.” he said, softly as she lay back on the sofa and sighed happily.

“Why can’t we just go and pick things up from my place?” she asked, puzzled as to why he would want to buy her new clothes when she obviously had a wardrobe of items somewhere.

“Cause, I’m ashamed to say, I don’t know where you live. You never told me.” Jon was finding it easier to tell the truth when he could rather than lie all the time. His conscience was trying to battle its way back through but was failing dismally.

“Oh.” Abby replied, quietly, “So we weren’t very close then?” she asked, feeling extremely puzzled as to why she had never told him her address.

She looked up at him, her mouth open in surprise as a thought struck her.

“Maybe I’m married! Maybe we were having an affair!” she said suddenly, causing Jon to pause on his way to the open plan kitchen/diner that was set into a corner of the living area.

“Nah, think I’d remember if you had a husband.” he smiled, turning back to the kitchen area.

Shit. Maybe she is married. You never thought of that did you Jonny? No, just had to jump in with both feet. What a schmuck. What if she’s got a family and they’re out there missing her? You have got to call a halt to this now.

Jon shook his conscience away and opened a cupboard in search of some dried pasta. He was going to make Spaghetti Bolognese, Jon Bon Jovi style, which meant lots of tomatoes, onions, herbs and a big mess in the kitchen afterwards. He started to hum a song to himself as he got the pans ready. As it was his day job, he had never been one for singing around the house, unless he’d had a few to drink, or the guys were over, but as he firstly hummed then broke in song, he was feeling something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Happiness.

Plus, he reasoned, if she wasn’t here with me then she’d be in some crummy psych ward somewhere with the freaks and weirdo’s.

And what’s more freaky and weird than bringing home a total stranger with amnesia and allowing her to think you‘re dating?.. Just fuck off conscience, ok?

Finally the meal was ready and Jon brought two bowls of his famous pasta dish over to the sofa.

“Mmm, that smells lovely.” Abby gushed as he handed her a bowl. She was snuggled up on the sofa, under a soft, warm blanket and was feeling cosy and safe.

Although she knew she didn’t know anything about this man, she knew she would be safe with him; that he wouldn’t do anything to her that she didn’t want him to do. She watched him sitting on the floor eating, taking in the pure masculinity of him; the animalistic rawness that he exuded, and shivered slightly. One thing had been on her mind since she’d awoken from the coma and had first seen him and that was sex. It wasn’t that she was afraid of the idea of sex, it was just that she felt slightly apprehensive about being with someone she ought to know very well but didn’t.

She ate half the bowl and had to put the rest down.

“What, is my pasta not good enough for you?” Jon smiled, to show he was teasing.

“Oh no, your pasta is plenty good enough, there’s just too much of it.” she replied, smiling happily at him. She pushed her hair off her face and grimaced.

“What’s up? You in pain?” he asked, seeing the grimace.

“Not really,” she replied, “ it’s just I’m going to need a shower and a hair wash only…” she trailed off.

Jon’s eyes widened as she blushed, and he realised the implications of what she’d left unsaid.

“You’re going to need some help getting in and out of the tub…”

Abby nodded, her earlier apprehension causing butterflies in her belly.

Shit. You didn’t think of that either, did ya?

“I can’t have wash my hair myself yet cause of my ribs, I can’t lift my arms above my head yet, not until they’ve healed. And while I can wrap my plaster cast in plastic to keep in dry while I shower ... I didn’t think of this earlier, that you’re still a stranger to me and I‘m dependent on you for help.” Abby stopped, feeling suddenly out of her depth.

Jon sat back on his heels and looked her straight in the eyes.

Ok, we’ll wrap your plaster cast up in plastic so you can shower then I’ll wash your hair for you over the tub. Does that work?” he smiled, his eyes crinkling slightly at the sides, as he raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve got really blonde eyebrows and eyelashes, haven’t you?” she said, suddenly, completely changing the subject.

“Er, yeah I guess. Why?” he asked, thrown by her non-sequiter.

“Oh nothing, it’s just your real hair is so dark and yet your facial hair isn’t. I’s almost like they’re not there. Anyway, that sounds like a working plan.” she said, “It must be difficult for you as I’m sure you’ve seen my naked body before, many times, as I can’t imagine a man like you waiting around for a long time, but for me, right now, it just feels weird. Can you understand that?”

Jon nodded, not trusting himself to say anything to her loaded question.

“Listen Abby,” he began, getting up from the carpet and perching on the sofa next to her, “Let’s take this slowly, and get to know each other all over again, as you were right, we didn’t know a lot about each other before and we weren’t that close, but I have a feeling we could be in the future.” Jon reached out and took her hands in his, marvelling at the smallness of her hands.

“I have a feeling we could be perfect for each other.” he smiled.

Abby stood under the hot, steamy water and groaned her appreciation. She’d been able to have a bed wash every few days at the hospital but to be able to stand under a stream of hot water was just heaven. She washed as much of herself as she could. Her ribs just ached and she knew she wasn’t going to be able to reach the top of her back. Fleetingly she thought of asking Jon to do it for her but she wasn’t ready for where that might lead. The shower itself was fantastic. It consisted of a series of buttons for On, Off, Hot and Cold which made it so much easier for her to turn it on and off. Feeling her skin start to prune up she reluctantly pressed the off button and opened the door, stepping out into a steamy bathroom. She wrapped herself in the luxury bath towel that Jon had left for her and crossed over the expanse of marble floor tile and opened the door.

Jon was leant up against the wall outside arms folded and legs crossed at the ankle. He was waiting for Abby to finish her shower. He ruminated on the past few weeks and realised that the more he was getting to know her the more he liked her. She was funny, naïve, and said whatever seemed to be on her mind without filtering it first. He’d met so many women throughout his life that seemed to tell him what they thought he wanted to hear and it was refreshing to meet someone who just said the first thing she thought of, even if it was left of centre sometimes. He remembered her comment about his eyebrows and wondered whether he should dye them a little bit darker. He was pondering this when the bathroom door opened and Abby’s face appeared in the midst of steam.

“Hi. I’ve showered.”, she said indicating the towel, “well, obviously, otherwise why would I be wearing a towel and have wet skin.” she blushed as his eyes automatically raked over said wet skin.

“Anyway I’m ready if you are,” she thought about what she’d said, “I mean to wash my hair. Ok, babbling now…” she trailed off blushing the colour of an Egyptian sunset.

Jon just smiled tightly and brushed past her. He crossed over to the bathtub and turned on the taps flipping them onto the shower head. He motioned for Abby to come over and sit on the floor, facing him, so that her head leant back against the tub. He lent over her to test the water and she caught a glimpse of his stomach. Her eyes widened as she looked at the firm, taut muscles covered in soft, downy hair. His best buckle was inches away from her face and she gulped, unable to stop staring at the zip of his jeans.

Jon stepped back to afford him the best angle to start washing her hair and looked down at her. He smiled, wryly, as he realised which part of his anatomy had been in her eye line. Deciding to put on a show he dropped the shower head and make a slow move of taking his jersey off.

“Don’t wanna get it wet.” he murmured as he threw it across the floor, where it landed on wet tiles.

Abby felt her mouth suddenly go dry as she took in the toned physique of the man in front of her. As he bent closer to her to pick up the shower head she had no idea what to look at. His torso brushed her face as he picked up the shower head and she held her breath as she felt the warmth of his skin brush across her cheek. Ok maybe sex with this man wasn’t going to be as embarrassing or as troubling as she’d thought.

Jon ran the warm water through her long hair until it was sopping wet then picking up a shampoo bottle, allowed a large dollop to fall into his hands before transferring the sudsy liquid to her long tresses. Abby heard a moan as he worked the shampoo through her hair and scalp and realised, belatedly, that it was her. Her eyes opened sharply in shock and then closed quickly as he ran began to rinse the shampoo out. He ran a sweet smelling lemony conditioner through her hair, right to the ends, tugging on the curls softly yet sensually. Abby had gone into sensory overload and was just sitting as still as she could. She was well aware that she was sat, wrapped in only a towel whilst a feral, handsome half naked man was administering to her hair. Although neither where aware of it, Jon had just fulfilled one of Abby’s fantasies.

With her hair freshly washed and curling around her face, Abby scrambled to her feet as fast as she could with a plaster cast on and was slightly mortified when her towel slipped, slightly, as Jon helped her up. She could only stand in front of him, knowing she was blushing all over, as he tucked the towel back around her, his warm fingers lingering on her rapidly cooling body.

She mumbled her thanks and bidding him good night, made her way back to her room.

Abby sat on the large double bed and groaned out loud. She looked down at the pillow to find a button up tee shirt and shorts combo with a note attached.

“For you to sleep in until we get you something a bit more feminine. Hopefully you can get your arms into a button up rather than an ordinary one. xxx Jon.”

“What a sweet man you are Jon.” she muttered to herself as she began the arduous task of getting herself into the button up tee shirt without causing her ribs to ache.

Jon looked at the clock and groaned. It was way past three in the morning and he was feeling the effects of the past month catching up with him. He knew he was going to get caught out at some point but all the time he was spending with Abby was making him want to spend more and more time with her. To teach her new things and see the joy in her face and she experienced it for the first time. He knew, deep down, that it wouldn’t last forever and that she would probably hate him for what he’d done, but he couldn’t help wishing it could stay like this. With these troubling thoughts slipping through his mind, he fell asleep.


	6. Welcome to the Good Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm always the one on the outside looking inside  
> Always the bridesmaid, never been the new bride  
> Sometimes I feel like a canary in a coal mine  
> It's hard to breathe but somehow it's got to stay in flight  
> Waiting for the dice to roll our way  
> We've been waiting for someone somewhere to say"

Anger. He was angry; furious with himself. How could he have let her slip through his fingers? He had his kitty cat in his arms and then that bloody door banged and distracted him. His eyes narrowed as he thought of the car that had hit her. For a split second he had thought she was dead; an animal howl of grief building in his throat then he’d watched in disbelief as that blond man had picked her up and driven her off.

He’d broken his own rule and had gone to her apartment. She had escaped him and the only way he could feel near to her was by being in her home. He’d only been inside once, but was keeping an eye on the building. Wouldn’t be right to get too comfortable with a kitty cat. Kitty cats had nasty claws.

He felt out of sorts. The next two kitty cats had been sloppy seconds. Not a real choice but ones that opportunity had thrown him. His mama had always warned him about getting to close; once a kitty has her claws in you son, you’ll never get away.

He knew he had to be patient and she’d turn up again, then Miss Kitty would be his.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jon scooped out fresh beans and put them in his coffee machine. There was nothing like fresh coffee first thing in the morning. He couldn’t get through the day without it. As the coffee brewed he walked over to the living room windows and stared out at the cold, frosty landscape and shivered, despite the near tropical temperature in the house. The swimming pool had been emptied and was covered for the winter with a hardwood cover to protect it from the elements. Normally no-one would be in the East Hampton house at this time of the year, but this year everything had changed and nothing would ever be the same again. The soft click of the machine. Jon walked back to the coffee machine and poured himself a cup of Jamaican Blue Mountain Roast.

He caught sight of a small calendar tacked up onto the cork board. Christmas was only two weeks away. Shit. He’d done nothing. Hadn’t bought any presents; not that they’d be welcome anyway, hadn’t even got a tree.

“Ooh coffee, just what I need.”

Jon turned to see Abby hobbling towards him, her riot of hair sticking out at all angles. She’d managed to get into the button up shirt but had mis-buttoned it, causing it to hang lopsided on her small frame. Coupled with the shorts hiked up round her waist and the plaster cast and Jon felt his gloomy mood start to lift.

“Afternoon sleepy head.” he said, smiling, pouring out a cup of coffee for her.

“Go, sit down I’ll bring it over. Hungry?” he asked, opening cupboards.

“ A little. God is it really the afternoon? I must have been so tired. That’s all I seemed to have done recently is sleep.” she said, sipping the fragrant brew.

“You know, I just realised that Christmas is only two weeks away, well ten days away really and I haven’t bought anything, no presents, no turkey, no ham, no tree, no nothing, so I thought we could go and pick out a tree today, if you’re up to it? Get you some new clothes as well while we’re at it, cause as cute as you look wearing my old stuff? I don’t think they really do you justice.” Jon smiled.

“Ok, let me go and get changed. I really could do with some more underwear. Do you have a jumper or something I could borrow? It looks really cold out there. Like it’s going to snow,” she turned to look out of the window,” Does it snow a lot up here?”

“Oh yeah, course I’m never normally this far up the coast this time of year so I don’t really get to see it here.”

“Oh, is this not your normal house then?” Abby asked.

“It is now, but it didn’t used to be.” Jon was looking slightly uncomfortable but Abby was facing away from him.

“Oh why’s that then?”

“The divorce. Dot got the house in Redbank, in Jersey, and I kept this one.”

“Oh god, Jon. I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were divorced. When did that happen?”

“Six months ago. Well it was final six months ago but really it was just after Christmas last year that I first knew about it.”

“Oh, come here.” Abby turned to him and held her arms out.

Jon walked into them and she hugged him tightly, kissing his cheek. Jon rested his head on her shoulder feeling the warmth from her slim body penetrating through the fog in his mind. He nuzzled into her neck, breathing against the warm skin.

Abby stepped back slightly from his tight embrace and smiled.

“Guess I need to get cleaned up or we’re never gonna get to the tree place in time.”

She turned to go, thankful he’d not said anything about the red-hot blush on her cheeks.

Jon sipped his tepid coffee as he waited for Abby to get ready. He’d seen the blush and it just made him want to hug her even tighter. She was such a sweet person. Dark, intrusive thoughts gathered in the back of his mind. Thoughts about how wrong this was and how he should stop this now before he was in too deep. He consciously slammed the metaphorical gate on them, turn the key in the lock and threw the key away. He was well known for being ruthless and dealing with problems when they arose but this time he wasn’t. The last problem he’d dealt with so ruthlessly had resulted in his being served with divorce papers. The ground hadn’t even hardened, the grass not yet laid, and she’d kicked him out. No more. He was going to start enjoying himself and if the only way he could do that was to eject the ruthless part of himself then so be it. He had lawyers and business people to take care of the Bon Jovi Empire. Did he really need to oversee everything? To put his stamp of approval onto every little change?

He was still pondering this massive shift of consciousness when Abby rejoined him in the kitchen. Jon had been so caught up with his thoughts that he hadn’t thought to lay out some clothing for her so Abby’d been forced to dig through the drawers in her bedroom.

Jon looked up and his breath caught in his throat. Abby was wearing a pair of Indigo boot leg jeans and a big sweater with the American flag knitted across it. Jon blinked back tears and cleared his throat as he remembered the last time he’d seen those clothes.

“I hope you don’t mind. I found these in a drawer unit in my room. I think they fit me better than your clothes would anyway.” the smile on her face died slowly as she looked at Jon’s drawn, dark face.

“Jon?” she began, as she hobbled towards him, “Are you ok?”

Jon smiled reassuringly. “I’m fine baby, just forgot those clothes were here, that’s all.”

“I’ll go change if you want me to.” Abby said, meaning it but hoping he wouldn’t ask her to.

“Nah, it’s just me being silly, besides you take long enough as it is…” he chuckled, as he picked up his car keys and jacket.

“Come on, let’s go get a tree. I know this one place that lets you saw your own trees. Always wanted to do that.”

“Ok Tarzan.” she smiled as he led her out of the house towards the carport.


	7. You're not alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Even if the sky should ever fall from grace  
> if I die or fade away  
> in the end you'll always know  
> you're not alone."

The ride to the tree place didn’t take that long and Abby enjoyed the drive. The air was dry despite the close proximity to the Atlantic Ocean and the aroma of tin in the air promised, or at least hinted snow.

Although the doctor had advised Jon not to press Abby to remember anything he couldn’t help but ask her about the parts of her life that she could remember.

“So, let me get this straight. Your last proper memory is of 1986? Yeah?” he asked as they drove along the almost deserted roads.

“Yeah, the last thing I can really remember is going to school in the autumn of 1986. I was starting my last year, the fifth year as it was called, but I don’t remember doing my exams or leaving school in 1987. I remember Live Aid though, but that was '85 wasn't it, I'm getting all messed up with my dates. I watched a bit of Live Aid, Duran Duran were on it and I remember begging to be able to watch them as I think they were on quite late and Mum didn’t like me staying up too late on a weekend as it pushed my sleep pattern out of sorts. I loved Duran Duran, had a real crush on Simon Le Bon. Maybe I still do; I have no idea but I know at the time I was crazy about them. When did you make it big?”

“Livin’ on a prayer came out in October ‘86, that was our first really big hit I guess.” Jon said.

“Oh right, I wasn't really into Rock music back then so as far as my Swiss cheese brain is concerned I’ve never heard your music.” Abby smiled.

“Oh well, that can be rectified, wait till we’re back at the house and I’ll blast some at you…if you want.”

“Oh definitely, I want to hear what you sound like. All I can recall, music wise, is the what I guess is the early eighties stuff, Duran, Spandau Ballet, Madonna, Dexys Midnight Runners, Eurythmics…” she trailed off.

“I bet you were a new romantic weren’t you? We saw a lot of them in the early eighties when Duran Duran seemed to take over the world. I bet you had a wedge haircut and wore those frilly shirts and those pointy toed boots.” Jon teased.

“You can talk, I’ve seen the photos in the games room. All that hair and those jeans! Were you sewn into them or did someone spray them on you? And the latex!” she laughed, “I thought wearing neon pink legwarmers was the height of crimes against fashion but leopard print drainpipe jeans?… You know the weirdest thing about this whole amnesia thing is that I know it was twenty odd years ago, it’s not like I think I’m in 1986 I just can’t seem to remember anything past 1986.” Abby sighed.

“Don’t push yourself baby, it’ll come back when it’s meant to and if it doesn’t? well, we’ll make some memories of our own.” Jon shuddered internally as he realised he sounded like one of his own songs.

He slowed the car down as they neared the turn off for the Xmas Tree Nursery.

“I’d like that.” Abby said as they pulled into the big car park.

 

The air was drenched with the smell of pine. Jon helped Abby out of the car and handed her the crutches. Together they walked slowly across the gravel and chipped wood of the car park towards the brightly lit, welcoming shop that was the way in.

“Mmm, smell that pine. I love the smell of freshly cut pine trees, takes me back to when I was a kid and mom and dad would get us a big ole tree and me and my brothers would fight over who was gonna string the popcorn to go on it. Tony would end up eating more popcorn than we strung up but it was still a great time of year.” Jon sighed as he thought of how Christmas had changed for him.

Abby struggled over the uneven surface of the parking lot. Having a plaster cast on sucked. Big time. Her arms felt bruised from the plastic straps of the crutches and the palms of her hands hurt from putting all her weight on the handles to help steady herself. She was due to have the cast off in two days and as far as she was concerned it was past due. She looked up at Jon and smiled. Her smile faded as she looked at his face. He looked as if all the weight of the world had landed on his shoulders.

“Jon? Are you ok?” she asked, puffing and panting as the neared the entrance.

Jon shook himself out of his reverie and placed an arm around Abby’s shoulders.

“Yeah babe, I’m fine. Just an old memory that’s all.”

“Are you sure? You look a bit pale. Tell me. What’s wrong?”

“Maybe later, ok babe? Not here,” he smiled brightly, shaking off the blues, “come on, let’s go get ourselves a huge tree.”

“Ok, but promise you’ll tell me later? I don’t like seeing you looking sad” Abby said as they reached the steps up to the shop.

Jon squeezed her shoulders, blinking back sudden tears, his throat tight.

 

The shop was warm and decorated to the hilt. Tinny Xmas muzak was blasting from huge black speakers that were dotted around the rafters. Directly in front of them was a section with a huge selection of decorations and off to the right there stood some pre-cut and also pre-cut and decorated trees. Jon grinned as he walked over to the information desk to ask about cutting his own tree. Abby smiled as she watched him join the queue, looking for all intents and purposes, like a schoolboy. He was almost bouncing on the balls of his feet he was so excited. She walked slowly over to join him, her crutches feeling like dead weights.

She was feeling tired and leant down heavily on the crutches, her shoulders were killing her. Abby looked around to see if there was an area she could sit down in but didn’t see anything. Jon had reached the head of the queue and was busy with his transaction.

“Excuse me?”

Abby turned to see a teenage girl behind her. She was wearing what looked to be a work uniform. Red trousers and a dark green sweatshirt. She had multicoloured hair and more piercing in her ears that was humanely possible.

“Did you want to sit down? We have an area over there,” she indicated behind her, “for the elderly and disabled but you would be more than welcome to…” she trailed off as she looked over Abby’s shoulder at the blonde man who was walking towards them.

“Holy shit. Is that…?”

“Hey babe, how’re you feeling? The guy said all I need to do is go out the back and choose a tree, then I can cut it if I want to. If I want to,” he chuckled to himself, “That’s why we’re here, right?” Jon said as he walked up to Abby.

The girl watched, her jaw open, as Jon placed a kiss on Abby’s forehead.

“I’m ok, but I think you’ve frightened my helper here. She was just about to help me over to a place where I can sit down when you came back and she just trailed off. I think you’ve scared her.” Abby smiled, turning to the girl who was busy talking on her mobile.

“Jules, I’m telling you Jon Bon Jovi is here, in front of me almost, with a woman…must be his girlfriend, she’s on crutches… How the hell do I know how?…I dunno, maybe she fell down the stairs or something…No I’m not going to ask…hey it’s your fault for phoning in sick, if you hadn’t been drinking last night you’d be standing here,” the girl looked up, her eyes widening, “looking at him coming towards you. Oh shit.”

“Hi, I’m Jon, How are you?” He smiled his megawatt smile.

“I…I…”

He could hear the friend calling out tinnily on the phone.

“Sarah? Sarah, you still there? I swear if you’re playing a joke on me…”

Jon reached over and plucked the phone out of the girls unresisting hands.

Abby looked on, amused at the reaction of the girl to Jon.

“Hey, This is Jon Bon Jovi, who am I talking to?…Jules? Hey how you doing? Yeah, Sarah’s in front of me…er, she’s currently gaping like a fish. I think I scared her, No this isn’t Brian, it’s Jon…prove it to you? Ok, um, gimme a sec,” he said, clearing his throat, “Tommy used to work on the docks, union’s been on strike he’s down on his luck…” he sang softly down the phone.

Abby heard a faint scream and sniggered as Jon was forced to hold the phone away from his ear.

“Erm, Sarah? I think Jules wants to speak to you.” He held the phone out to the clearly shell shocked teenager.

“It was nice to meet you and thank you for being so kind to my girlfriend.” he said, turning back to Abby who was, clearly trying to hold in her laughter.

“I can’t make up my mind whether that was a sweet thing to do or just down right mean.”

“Mean? me?” he said, grinning.

“Yeah, that poor Jules.”

“What do you mean?” he asked

“You sang to her, she’s clearly a fan and you sang to her down the phone. If Simon Le Bon had done that to me back when I’d have just died of shock.” she laughed. She was still coming to terms with what Jon did for a living and who he was and to see the results of that up close was slightly surrealistic.

“And what if I sang to you?” he murmured, as they walked slowly towards the exit that led to the nursery.

“I don’t know if I’d scream, per se.” she said dryly, really beginning to hate the damn crutches.

“Oh you would by the time I’d finished with you.” he said softly in her ear as they stepped out into the frigid air.

Abby shivered but she wasn’t sure whether it was the temperature drop that had caused it.


	8. You had me from hello

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "One word, that's all was said,  
> Something in your voice called me, caused me to turn my head.  
> Your smile just captured me, you were in my future as far as I could see."

Jon settled back in his tan leather laz-e-boy chair. He had ESPN on the large screen plasma TV but wasn’t really watching it, even though it was a rerun of the Giants game at Dallas Cowboys. The tree was decorated and had pride of place in the corner of the room. It wasn’t a real one as had been planned as he hadn’t really planned on how they were going to transport it home and he’d had to admit defeat, with Abby sniggering in the background, when he’d tried and failed to get the tree fixed to the top of his car. He knew Abby couldn’t help him but it had pissed him off somewhat that she’d just sniggered as he’d fought with the tree. In the end he’d just given up and had left it in the car park for someone else to take. They had picked up a 6ft plastic one, much to his chagrin, on the way home, as well as spending quite a few hours and quite a bit of money on outfitting Abby with a complete new wardrobe. Jon didn’t care about the cost, just that Abby was happy. The tree was black, which had been Abby’s choice, which had taken her well over an hour to decorate. Jon had to admit it did look impressive, with the neon blue lights and silver decorations, but he was still disappointed not to have that fresh pine smell that he’d come to associate Christmas with.

It was well past midnight but he wasn’t sleepy; tired but not sleepy. Abby had gone off to bed at about 10pm and he’d been left, pottering about in the huge house. Although Abby had only been living in the house for two days it felt empty when she wasn’t around. He sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. A steaming cup of hot chocolate sat untouched by his arm. His mobile buzzed and he picked it up. It was Obie calling.

“Hey Obie.”

“Oh good you’re awake. I have some news. You might not like it though.”

“Tell me.” Jon was instantly alert, all previous signs of tiredness had gone.

“Ok, well we’ve managed to trace Abigail Jennifer Anderson. She was born on 24th September 1970 in Carshalton, Surrey to David and Anna Anderson. Shortly after her birth they moved to a suburb of Kent called Belvedere which is where they lived, quite uneventfully, until December 1986. I’ve got all her school reports and medical reports, don’t ask me how, as I’d have to shoot you, but, and this is where it gets weird, everything stops after 15th December 1986. I have a visit to the doctors for a cold on the 15th December and then nothing. Zip, nada, zilch. It’s as if Abigail just disappeared off the face of the planet. I’ve had my guys checking to see whether they moved to another part of England or even moved country but nothing so far. As far as we can find out they didn’t have passports issued in their names so…”

“That is weird. Just vanished? Have you checked death certificates? Maybe her parents died. I just don’t know what else to think.” Jon was completely flummoxed.

On that note Jon said his goodbyes and sat back, his mind going crazy.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Sutton! In my office, now!”

Luke looked up as his captain shouted. He got up from his desk which was strewn with paperwork, mostly relating to the Slasher case.

“You hollered Captain?” Luke said as he sauntered into the small office.

“I want you to look into this case.” Captain Andrew Phillips said as he handed over a manila folder.

“As well as the Slasher case?” Luke asked, puzzled.

“Instead of the Slasher case. Now before you start, I’ve already spoken with Graves and he’s informed me that you have no new leads. Now unless you can tell me that’s incorrect then I expect you to follow up on this case.”

Luke flipped through the folder.

“Missing persons? Since when do we deal with missing persons?” he asked, annoyance creeping into his voice.

This was just full of shit. He was in the middle of a full-on murder investigation and to be pulled off to find some missing woman was just…shit, that’s what it was.

“We look for missing persons since the order came down from on high. Her name is Jenna Riley, she was reported missing after thanksgiving and the person who reported her is the Commissioners nephew. Now I don’t like it as much as you don’t, all this political bullshit, but you know as well as I do, the Commissioner says jump, we say how high,” Captain Phillips took a breath and looked at Luke.

“Luke, just look into it as far as you can go and then we can hand it back. Ok?”

“Lip service?”

“Exactly. We’re gonna do this by the book. We’ve been asked to ‘look’ into it and look is what we’ll do. Then you can get back to finding this murderous son of a bitch.”

“Ok Captain.” Luke felt a bit happier. He could make a few phone calls, find out a few things and then legitimately, having looked into it, give the case back to missing persons. He walked back to his desk and began the task of reading the file.

Her name was Jenna Riley, she was 38 and worked for US Rock, a heavy metal/ rock magazine, based in Manhattan. She’d been due to go into work on Thanksgiving to finish up an article, as she’d had some vacation time coming up, but hadn’t turned up. Nothing much had been done until after she’d been due back to work. Her boss, Steve Hallitt, the Commissioners nephew, had called her and left messages and after two days of calling, had called his uncle. To give him his dues the Commissioner had advised his nephew to go through the proper channels but as it was coming up to three weeks and nothing, Mr Hallitt had pulled a few strings. Luke didn’t really blame him, he just wished he hadn’t been handed the case.

Taking a sip of the luke warm coffee on his desk, he pulled he phone towards him and began the arduous task of phoning everyone on the list that he’d need to speak to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abby woke up with a big smile on her face. Today was the day she was getting that damned plaster cast off her leg. It was itching her something crazy and she just knew her leg would be hairy and covered in dead skin cells. She pulled a face as she thought of the huge task of shaving it after the cast was removed but smiled as she thought of the sensation of lowering said leg into a bath full of hot bubbly water. She sat up with a stretch and yawned. Bright sunlight filtered through a chink in the heavy silk curtains. She looked at the clock.

It was 9:07am. The earliest she’d woken for a very long time.

She pushed back the heavy comforter and got out of bed, glaring at the hated cast. She picked up a towel and clumped her way to the bathroom. Although she felt rested her head wasn’t yet awake and so although she noticed the bathroom was steamy, she failed to notice that the shower was still running and that Jon was in it.

Jon stood under the hot spray, his eyes closed. He hadn’t slept very well as all sorts of things had been going through his mind. Where had Abby disappeared to? What had happened to her? He was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t hear the shower door open until he heard a sharp and quite surprised squeak behind him.

Not thinking he turned around to find a wide eyed and blushing Abby looking at him. Correction, a wide eyed, blushing and naked Abby looking at him.

“Morning babe.” he said, through the steam, “Coming in?”.

 

Abby stared in shock at the naked man in front of her. How one person could be so beautiful, inside and out, was a mystery to her. She stared at his sculptured, muscular chest, well developed arms and powerful thighs and gulped, her mouth suddenly dry, even in the steam. She knew she was blushing and, from the goose bumps on her skin, vaguely remembered she was naked. She just couldn’t move, like deer in headlights.

Jon cocked his head at her, smiling. Christ! She was fit. Curves in all the right places, soft creamy skin, a biteable ass and breasts he could spend all day stroking and playing with. He grinned wryly and, reaching out an arm, took her of her hand and led her, quite unresisting, into the heat of the shower and his embrace.

“You were letting the cold in.” he murmured before lowering his head to kiss her.

Abby felt her stomach muscles tense and then drop as molten liquid. She felt his hands, the callused fingertips grazing her skin, skimming the sides of her breasts and down to her waist, where he held her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, losing herself in the heat and tenderness of his kiss.

Jon groaned as he felt the softness of her skin under his fingers. God, he wanted her right this moment. He felt himself harden against her belly as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in closer to her.

Abby smiled to herself. What on earth had she been worried about? To be held in this man’s arms was just the most wonderful feeling she’d ever known and she just wanted to be lost in him.

Their kiss deepened. Jon pushed Abby up against the wall of the shower cubicle away from the spray. He bent his head and took a nipple into his warm mouth. Abby closed her eyes, giving into the intense heat that was building in her lower stomach. She clutched at his head, running her fingers across his scalp, alternatively scratching then soothing the wet skin.

Jon explored her body, running his fingertips over her ass and round her thighs, feeling the soft downy hair tickle the back of his hands as he gently stroked her mound.

Abby jumped, groaning aloud, as she felt Jon touching her. Her stomach had long since dropped away into nothingness, leaving behind a pit of molten liquid. She shifted slightly to allow him access. She felt wanton and free and safe.

Jon ran his fingertips lightly up the inside of her thigh. He could feel her heat and groaned as he touched her warmth. He stroked the hot satiny skin until he found the hard nub of nerve endings. He leant in and nuzzled her neck, feeling her jump as he pinched down on her clitoris. He smiled to himself as he slipped a finger inside her, marvelling at the warmth and tightness.

Abby could feel her legs beginning to buckle as white lightening shot through her.

Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God.

She thought as Jon wrapped his strong arms around her, pinning her up against the warm tiles. She was panting as he slowly pumped his finger in and out. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart beating wildly, as her world spiralled away from her, she closed her eyes tightly, little neon dots dancing in the darkness. Her stomach clenched once then fell away as she was tipped over the abyss.

Jon could feel her orgasm approaching and wanted nothing more than to bury himself deeply inside her and never resurface. He tried to slow his breathing but just the thought of bringing this beautiful creature to orgasm was too much for him and with his free hand he began to stroke his dick. One part of his brain immediately thought of the old trick of rubbing your stomach and patting your head at the same time before it shut down as he was lost in sensation. The vibrations of Abby’s groans shooting through his chest, the tightness of her clenching around his sodden finger and the touch of his own hand all combined to produce the most intense and forceful orgasm he’d had in a long time, if ever. His heart thudded in his chest as he waited for his breathing to slow down. He could feel Abby slumped slightly against him, shivering slightly, even in the heat of the water. He lowered his head until his chin rested on her head and closed his eyes, smiling.

What a great start to the day.

Opening his eyes he looked down and grinned.

“I think your plaster cast got a bit wet.” he said, smiling.

Two sets of eyes looked down at the sodden, pulpy plaster cast and both of them burst into giggles.


	9. Made in America

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Blinded by my vision, there was just no turning back,   
> Like a runaway train, life was steaming down the track."

Detective Sutton looked at the extremely attractive blonde behind the reception desk. He had made the journey downtown to the offices of US Rock as no-one had seemed to have the time to talk to him on the telephone, plus it was always better to get a face to face in order to read their body language. He unwrapped the wool scarf from around his neck, shivered as some melted snow briefly touched his bare neck, and smiled at the woman. The sign behind her on the wall read Bauer Media Corp, which he guessed was the parent company.

He stepped closer to the reception desk and smiled. She was more attractive the closer he got and was wearing the sexiest dress he’d ever seen, even if it was totally unsuitable for the weather outside. A 1950’s style halter dress in black with sexy little cherry bomb prints dotted all over it.

He cleared his throat, his smile faltering a little as he struggled to stop staring at her.

‘Damn it all, I need to get laid’ he thought fleetingly as she looked up from some paperwork and smiled at him

‘Oh hell, I’m lost’

“Good morning, welcome to US Rock. How can I help you?”

‘British as well. Shit I am so dead.'

“Hi, Veronica,” he squinted, reading her name tag, “I’m Detective Luke Sutton and I’m here to see Steve Hallitt.” he said in a rush.

Veronica looked at the handsome Detective and smiled to herself. It was the dress, she knew it was. She’d managed to pull every time she’d worn it and it looked like New York’s finest weren’t immune either.

“Ok, if you’d like to take a seat I’ll let him know you’re here.” she said, flicking her long wavy blonde hair over her shoulder, “Please help yourself to coffee while you wait.”

Luke sat down on a quite comfortable chair and leant back. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so affected by someone he’d just met. She really was stunning. Mentally shaking himself, he thought about the case he’d been given. He flipped open the folder and began to remind himself of the facts he had.

He was so lost in reading about Jenna’s life that he didn’t see the tall man approach him until he heard a cough.

Luke looked up into the greenest eyes he’d ever seen behind a pair of round wire framed glasses. A rather pleasant, non-threatening face topped off with a mop of dark brown hair.

‘Jeez, he looks like that Harry Potter actor.’ Luke caught himself thinking as he got up from his seat and went to shake the proffered hand.

“Hi. I’m Steve Hallitt.”

He noticed Luke staring at him and chuckled.

“I guess you’re thinking, Christ he looks like Harry Potter,” Steve said, good naturedly. “I’ve heard it pretty much every day since that first film came out. Even got to the point where I was going to carve that damned lightening scar into my fore head .” he ran his hands down his jeans.

Luke recovered himself and forced himself to stop staring. “I’m…I apologise for staring, it’s just so uncanny.”

Steve smiled. “Apology accepted. You know that’s one thing I miss about not having Jenna here. She’s so damned protective towards us you know. I had to stop her from physically hurting one band member once when he wouldn’t stop calling me Harry. Anyway, this is our meeting room,” Steve said, leading Luke into a small but airy room, containing a couple of sofas, a well-worn coffee table, a couple of bottles of Jack Daniels and a widescreen TV.

“Well, the guys we interview won’t sit round a table like normal, they’d just get up and leave you know…so we have to provide a few home comforts.” Steve explained to Luke’s look of astonishment.

“It’s cool, just wish I could get our Captain to approve something like this.” He said, sitting down in a squishy leather seat.

Steve sat opposite him, straightening his tee shirt and rubbing the palms of his hands on his jeans.

“You ok? You look a bit nervous.” Luke said, curiously.

“Oh yeah man, I’m fine, you know even though my uncle is who he is, I still get nervous around cops. Guess it comes with the territory you know…we’re not meant to be the most law-abiding people us rockers…” he trailed off, running his hand through his mop of hair, making it stick out in all directions.

Luke smiled to put the man at ease. It wasn’t the first time he’d interviewed someone who was nervous, though it did usually mean they were guilty, of something at least.

“So, down to business. You reported Miss Riley missing when exactly?” Luke asked, wanting to get Steve to tell the story again, rather than rely on his notes. That way if there were any discrepancies Luke would spot them.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, for Steve anyway, his story matched the one written down.

“Tell me what she’s like as a person.” Luke asked.

Steve looked at him, taken aback at the question.

“Erm.”

“You said she was protective of you all.”

“Well, yeah, to a point.”

“And that point being?” Luke tried to prompt him.

“Well, she is protective of us all but can be a bit acidic if any of us are late getting the mag to bed every month.”

“Ok. In what way acidic?” Luke looked at the man in front of him, taking in the fidgeting and twitching. He knew there was something behind it and if he could probe deep enough maybe he would get the full story. This was the bit he hated, the bit where he had to be polite and listen to well-meaning but obviously bullshit diatribe before the speaker hopefully got the point.

“Well, I hate to speak ill of her but, oh man, she can be a right bitch.” Steve slumped in his seat.

Luke stared in astonishment as Steve began to unload. Ok, so maybe he didn’t have to wait that long before the truth came out.

“She’s been here for six months and, yeah the magazine’s never been run so smoothly but man, is it worth it? Everything has to be done just so. I mean you saw V on reception, yeah? She’s a looker right? Well Jenna hated the fact that she dresses like ‘a 1950’s housewife on acid’ and made it her life’s work to bully her into leaving.”

“Why don’t you fire her then, you are the editor, aren’t you?” Luke asked, causing Steve to stop mid-rant and look at the man in astonishment.

“Because she’s fucking good at her job. If I fired everyone I’d ever had an argument with I’d have no staff. Ok, listen, when I said bitch maybe that was a bit much and V? Well V can be a bit much sometimes, not much going on upstairs if you get my meaning. Listen this magazine was on its last legs before she came over. She was working for Kerrang magazine in London and came over for a year or two to get us back together which she is doing, so we forgive her for her rants and general bitchiness.”

Luke sighed inside. It was obvious he wasn’t going to get much out of Steve. Something was going on and Steve had decided to backtrack on his earlier rant making Luke’s job even harder.  
“I mean she’s not that bad to work with, and it’s not like I’m Jon Bon Jovi…” Steve chuckled.

“What do you mean?” Luke asked, intrigued.

“Oh man, she fucking hates that dude with a passion. No-one knows why. She has done for, like, ever,” He got up from his seat, “Come and see her desk and you’ll get a better idea.”

Luke followed Steve out of the meeting room and into a large, overcrowded, bustling room, filled with rock memorabilia, tons of paper, and the generally harassed staff of a monthly rock magazine. Some unidentifiable song screamed out from a small digital radio that was half buried under a pile of paperwork.

He smiled at the people behind desks as he passed, feeling more and more like a Mormon caught knocking on Ozzy Osborne’s front door, asking him if he’d heard of Jesus.

He was led up to a neat and tidy desk, covered with rows of in trays, all with various stickers neatly typed and was struck by the contrast between this one and the rest. He couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, except for the tidiness until Steve opened the door of a small cupboard that sat adjacent to the desk.

Luke’s eyes widened as he took in the various and many defaced and pock marked pictures of not only Jon but the whole band. He gulped as he realised one of them still had a dart sticking in it, right slap bang in the middle of Jon’s forehead.

“Ok,” he said, “I see what you mean about ‘she hates them’. Why did you show me?” he asked.

“Just thought you needed to see she’s someone who can take care of herself and that she’s got a nasty and vicious side to her so if she’s missing? Something bad has happened to her.” Steve said, perturbed that the officer had obviously missed the in joke that no one who works for a rock magazine likes Bon Jovi.


	10. Army of One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I've got a voice  
> It's all on me  
> A beating heart inside of me"

Abby sighed in delicious pleasure. Her leg was out of plaster and, providing she took it easy for a few days, there was no need to use the crutches. Christmas was a week away and she had no idea what to do about getting Jon a present. It wasn’t like she had any money at the moment and she felt embarrassed at asking him for a loan to buy a present from him. Jon had gone out for a few hours to pick someone up from the airport. Abby’d been half asleep when he’d left and hadn’t really listened to what he’d said.

She flicked through what seemed like a hundred channels on the massive Plasma TV, smiling like a child. She couldn’t believe there were so many channels to choose from. She could only remember there being four back home and it always seemed to her that there was nothing on any of them. The smile slipped slightly as she continued to flick through numerous adverts and really bad programmes. Maybe nothing had changed. There still didn’t seem to be anything on the TV. As she idly flicked something caught her eye and she hurriedly flicked back to be confronted by Jon, complete with bandana, prancing about a stage, singing into a microphone with scarves tied to it. She turned the volume up and smiled, in spite of herself, as the lyrics to ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’ blasted through.

She smiled as she thought back to the previous evening. After the wonderful shower she and Jon’d shared, he’d taken it upon himself to introduce her to the Bon Jovi family.

\---------------------------------------------

“And this was taken in Moscow. You see the look on Richie’s face? Slightly shocked yeah? He’d just realised that the girl he’d been screwing the night before was married and that her husband was the KGB officer stood next to him in the photo. Thankfully for him, she kept quiet about it, which was good for us, as I’d hate to think what coulda happened ya know?” Jon chuckled as long buried memories bubbled up and broke the surface.

Abby laughed at the thought of Richie and the KGB Officer’s wife. Jon had played a selection of songs to her from all the albums earlier that day. She’d found them melodic, truthful and catchy. Some had made her want to head bang along, some were downright silly, like ‘99 in the shade’, and a few had made her cry, like ‘Make a memory’. One, in particular had made her smile. ‘You had me from hello’ seemed almost prophetic.

\--------------------------------------------------

She lounged back, letting the familiar yet new strains of the song wash over her. Richie was playing his solo with what looked like a loo brush sitting on his head, Abby giggled to herself as she took in the supposed fashions that were all the rage in the 80’s. The programme seemed to be a look back to the 80’s and she was rewarded when the next video flashed up to reveal Simon Le Bon stalking through the jungles of Sri Lanka ‘Hungry like a Wolf’. Abby’s jaw hung open as she watched the object of many a teenage fantasy turn his bright blue eyes to her and sing. Another pair of blue eyes entered her consciousness and she found herself, not enjoying the trip down memory lane, but comparing the two men and finding that the ice blue eyes she’d come to know over the past few days were much sexier than Simon’s ever had been. She was so lost in her mental comparison she jumped when she felt a feather light kiss on her head and hands on her shoulders.

“Hey babe.” Jon said, looking up to the TV, “Mmm, you must be in heaven.” he murmured as Simon and the boys lounged and played on the beach.

“Shit Jon, this place is even bigger than I remember.” a deep, caramel laced voice rang out from behind them.

Abby watched as a tall, dark haired, broad shouldered man came into her view and sat down on the sofa next to her. Kind, yet devilish brown eyes fixed their gaze upon her. Abby had to hold back a giggle for the lost loo brush as she took in the short haircut.

“Hi, you must be Abby. Jon’s told me nothing about you.” the man said, taking her hand and pressing a warm kiss on her pulse point.

“Richie, down boy.” Jon said, smiling, yet his eyes were tight.

“Abby, meet Richie. Richie, meet Abby, and hands off.” the warning was there for those that would listen.

Richie raised an eyebrow. Last time he’d heard that tone was when he’d been introduced to Dot and had, inadvertently, flirted with her.

Abby smiled at Richie, who waggled his eyebrows back at her. He was a devastatingly sexy man, who wore his sexuality like a war medal; with pride.

“Hi, nice to meet you. Like the hair.” she blurted, unable to hold in the peal of laughter that had been dangerously close to the surface.

“Did I miss something?” Richie asked, smiling. He always smiled when an attractive woman laughed. As long as she was looking at him he didn’t care if he was butt of the joke or not. Make ‘em laugh and you’re halfway there.

“We were looking through old photo’s yesterday.” Jon explained, leaning on the back on the sofa, his fingers playing softly yet possessively with errant curls of Abby’s hair.

“Oh, did he show the one in Moscow? Christ, I nearly shit myself when Kat turned up with her husband. Fuckin’ KGB! I thought I was dead for sure, ‘specially as he was armed with a fuckin’ Uzi. Jeez, I had to go change my shorts!” Richie laughed, good naturedly.

Jon laughed as another memory surfaced.

“Turned out all he wanted was a fuckin’ autograph. Still not sure what the fuck I wrote on that photo. Could’ve been Mickey fuckin’ Mouse for all I know. All I know is I was out of there like a shot after that photo was taken. Headed back to the hotel and stayed there for the rest of the tour.”

“You still didn’t learn anything from that though, did ya, prick.” Jon bantered.

“You can talk, Mr ‘I’ll screw anything with a zip code’.” Richie countered, smiling.

“Fuck you man.” Jon shot back.

Abby sat, in amazement, watching and listening to the banter between the two men. It was obvious they were as close as two people could get without being one. It was fascinating to watch the interaction and ease between them.

Jon squeezed himself onto the sofa between Richie and Abby. He trusted Richie with his life, but knew him too well to trust him with his woman. At least, sometimes.

 

Richie raised an eyebrow as Jon’s butt came to close for comfort as he settled onto the sofa and grinned to himself. Oh man, Jonny had it bad for this one and he, for one, wasn’t gonna let him get away with it.

“So Abby, are you happy with this reprobate? Cause I’m happy to take over if you’re not.”

Abby laughed, linking her arm though Jon’s as she replied.

“I’m happy, very happy, and if he’s a reprobate then let me be damned too.” she smiled.

Richie looked at Jon who had turned to look at him and froze for a second as pure unadulterated anger flashed across his face for a split second. Richie’s eyes widened, then he recovered his stance.

“Ah Abs, you don’t know what you’re missing darlin’” but his heart wasn’t in it.

Making a show of it, he stretched, hearing his joints crack and pop.

“Well folks, I am shattered. Guess my age is catching up with me as flying ain’t that fun anymore. ‘Specially flying commercial. Jon, you wanna show me which room I’m in?” Richie got up and stood, smiling to hide the hurt.

“Yeah sure.” he mumbled, pressing a kiss on Abby’s temples, before getting up and walking, stiff shouldered out of the room.

Abby turned back to the marathon ‘return to the 80’s’ on the TV and was soon immersed in memories of Cyndi Lauper and ‘Girls wanna have fun’.

 

Richie picked his overnight case up and followed Jon up the wooden staircase. He walked along the wood and glass bridge until they were both out of sight of Abby. He was angry; no, scratch that, he was furious.

He waited until Jon opened the door of the spacious guest room to say something.

“I’ll say this and say it once so you listen to me. It’s only because of what you’ve gone through over the past few months that I haven’t ripped you a new asshole. You ever look at me like that again and I will walk. I don’t need the work, you get me?” Richie’s voice was low and quiet, always a bad sign coming from such an exuberant person.

Jon stared at his friend, poker faced.

“Now you gonna tell me what that display of anger down there was about? Or do I ask Abby?”

“Leave her out of this, man.”

“Start talking Kidd.”

The two men faced each other, neither willing to give in. The band had always thrived on the huge egos of the two front men and Richie had often seen Jon angry, but never as intensely and never directed at himself and he wanted to know why.

Slowly Jon sagged as if the air had gone out of him. Tears appeared in the corners of his over bright eyes and Richie watched, appalled, as one ran down Jon’s face.

“Jon? What the fuck is going on?”

“I’m fucked Rich. I just can’t do this anymore. The band, the music, the tours. I just…can’t. I’ve had enough, man. Just too fuckin’ tired. I’m old and,” he faltered slightly, breathing deeply to regain his somewhat composure, “I’m quitting. I ain’t gonna do another album.”

“What the fuck?” Richie exclaimed, sinking onto the plush king-sized bed. 

Whatever he’d been expecting, and he’d been expecting something it hadn’t been that. He’d watched as Jon had withdrawn into himself over the previous few months and knew something would have to give but had never thought in his wildest dreams, and he’d had a few of those, that it would ever be the music that gave.

“Is it because of Abby?” Richie asked, shock evident on his handsome face.

“No… well… partly… but… no, I’ve been thinking this over for months now. If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in what I was doing, what the band where doing and trying to run the whole damn corporation by myself then what happened would never have happened, and now I’ve met someone I care for deeply,” he had a moment of insight as he realised he really did care deeply for Abby, “I’m not gonna waste a moment with her. So, it ends, here.”

“Jon, please. What I said about walking, I was just angry man.” Richie said, unable to believe what Jon had said.

“I know, and you were right, you should’ve torn me a new one. In fact, if people hadn’t been so damned afraid of tearing me new one then maybe she’d…” he shook his head as another tear rolled down his face.

He turned to face his best friend.

“I have a new chance Richie and I’m not going to mess this one up like I did before. Look you can stay here if you want, you’re more than welcome to, hell you’re my brother, but please don’t try to change my mind. The paperwork’s already signed, just needs to be sealed and delivered that’s all.”

“When were you gonna tell us?” Richie asked, his mind going off in all sorts of directions.

“New Year.”

Richie’s shoulder sagged as he realised that he wasn’t going to be able to argue with him.

“Whatever man,” he smiled at the face he’d come to know and love deeply over the previous 25 years and saw tiredness, rage and something he’d not seen before. Defeat.

With a groan he buried his head in his hands, a lone tear dripping down his face as he heard the lock snick into place as Jon left. Christ, what on earth had just happened? Jon had always had many side projects but music was his life, even after the New Jersey tour that had come damned close to finishing them all off as a band, he’d known that Jon would come back eventually. It had taken 3 years but they’d all had their break and had come back together to produce one of Richie’s favourite albums ‘Keep the Faith’. Jon had gone off biking around the desert and Richie’d made his first solo album but he’d known they’d always be family but now, he wasn’t so sure. He lay back on the large bed and sighed. Damn it he was feeling every one of his years. There was only 3 years between him and Jon but he was feeling at least 20 years older. He reached over into his flight bag to get his mobile. If Jon was going to pull this on him he was damned well going to tell the others.


	11. Blood on Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Blood on blood  
> One on one  
> And I'll be here for you  
> Till Kingdom come"

Detective Sutton picked up a book that was on the bedside table and shook it. Nothing drifted out of it. He had managed to get Miss Riley’s home address from Steve Hallitt and he and Detective Graves had gone to the small but neat apartment to search it. CSI would only be called in if it was an obvious scene of crime.

The place was small, even by Manhattan standards, but it was extremely tidy. Too tidy. Luke had always distrusted tidy people. They had way too much time on their hands if they could tidy up all the time. Whoever Jenna Riley was she was obviously a neat freak. Obsessively neat. Everything had a place and everything was in its place. Even the tea towels were ironed and put away in a drawer. Luke thought of his place with damp washing hung up wherever there was space and the remains of last night’s dinner still in bowls dotted around the floor and smiled wryly. If he ever found this Jenna Riley he was going to ask her the secret to being tidy, that was for sure.

He looked up from where he was sat, on the edge of the double bed that dominated the small bedroom, to see Graves walk in from the tiny ensuite bathroom that constituted the apartments only bathroom.

“Anything in there?” Luke asked.

Graves shook his head, blonde hair flopping in his face, “Nah, just the usual toiletries and shit. Though one thing’s odd, everything’s in alphabetical order in the medicine cabinet and even her dirty laundry’s all folded up neatly in the laundry bin. She’s a freak man.”

“Just ‘cause you’re a slob.” Luke muttered, smiling, knowing he was just as bad, if not worse, than Graves.

“So, whatever happened to her didn’t happen here. Have you checked the kitchen? Listen Graves, you go back to the precinct and start the report. I’ll finish up in here, ok?” Luke said as he headed out of the tiny bedroom into the kitchen/diner/lounge area.

“Er.” Graves managed as Luke started to open cupboards. Every single cupboard was filled; tins that were lined up alphabetically, packets that were in date order and so on. The fridge was clean and smelled fresh. Luke was a little surprised at the fresh smell seeing as she had been missing for a while but realised it was because all the contents were neatly packaged into plastic boxes with the contents and use by dates hand written neatly onto small labels. Even the eggs had felt tip dates on them. He checked the freezer and found the same set up.

All her bills were neatly tidied away in an A-Z divider, which sat on the small, yellow topped kitchen table. It was an old 1950’s Formica topped table with metal fold away legs and lent the room a sunny feel.

Luke walked around the waist high divider and into the lounge area. Again, it was neat and tidy. Sunlight streamed through the window highlighting a patch of beige carpet and illuminating sparkling white paint work. Even after having been uninhabited for a few weeks there was very little dust. Luke sat down on a small two-seater sofa and looked around the neat but clinical room. There was nothing personal about the room at all; no paintings on the walls, no photos of loved ones, no ornaments at all.

It was the room of someone who was completely in control of everything she did, even to the point of controlling her own emotions. Someone cold and hard and shut down. Someone who could quite easily walk away from her life if she wanted to and the complete antithesis of what Miss Riley did for a living. Luke thought about her job for a moment. Rock Music Journalist.

Rock Music - the idiom of passion. He thought of the people she worked with. Every single one of them was passionate about his or her job, the music, the way of life, the style and fashion. He realised he hadn’t checked the wardrobe and was heading back to the bedroom when something caught his eye. It was bright blue and red and was peeping out from under the sofa. The sun had gone in and in the gloom the bright primary colours stuck out like a sore thumb. He got down onto the floor and managed to prise it out. It was a Domino’s Pizza box. He opened it. It was empty but there was a lingering but very faint smell of grease and melted cheese.

In the clinical but well cared for apartment it was about as likely to belong there as a pork chop at a Bar Mitzvah. Luke was beginning to smell something and it wasn’t just the rank grease from the stained cardboard.

\-----------------------------------------

He stood and watched as a CSI team entered the apartment block where Miss Kitty had lived. He cursed himself as he thought about his carelessness. He had forgotten the pizza box. He’d been so very careful with all of her belongings though. They wouldn’t find a single drop of him. Anywhere.

\----------------------------------------

Abby stretched out as Jon joined her back on the sofa. Outside the sky had begun to darken and fat flakes of snow drifted lazily to the ground. Abby had lit the freestanding gas fire that stood off to one corner of the room, making the room warm and cosy.

“Everything ok?” she asked as he snuggled up to her, laying his head on her shoulder, his arm snaking gently around her waist, careful of her sore ribs.

“Yup. Everything is good.” he answered, clipped. He breathed in the scent from her shampoo and pressed a kiss against her neck.

Abby smiled as she felt the weight of him leaning on her. She felt safe with Jon around. She kissed the top of his head, lifting her arm gingerly to allow him to snuggle up closer. She draped her arm around his shoulder and idly ran her fingernails along his scalp, marvelling at the thick heavy hair as it slipped through her fingers like silk.

“Richie’s nice, isn’t he? He‘s such a flirt, how does his girlfriend put up with it?” she asked, feeling him breathing against her neck, causing her skin to break out in goosebumps.

“Which one? He’s got a few at the moment.” Jon smiled, his lips resting against her neck. He moved his arm leisurely until his hand was cupping her breast. He could feel the nipple stiffen as he ran his fingertip across it lightly, feeling the puckered skin under her clothes

She breathed in deeply, her stomach doing somersaults. The shower they’d shared had been wonderful but not nearly enough. She wanted to feel his touch on her and inside her to make her feel real. Having holes in her memory made her feel not quite human and she had found, after the shower, that she just craved his touch.

Jon released her and with a practiced move, removed her top in one swift move. He threw it behind them where it landed none to elegantly in a heap by the bottom of the stairs. It had been quite a throw and if he was throwing the discus that far he’d have made the Olympic team. As it was, it was a different kind of gold he was going for.

He bent his head to her breast, licking at the erect nipple through the satin of her bra.

Abby moaned, feeling her pussy grow wet. She reached out blindly and began to pull at the hem of his cable knit jersey. She began to get frustrated as she couldn’t seem to get it off him, not realising it was because his arms were around her waist. Finally, Jon sat back and soon the jersey joined her top, and after that her bra joined the sad little pile of discarded clothing…

Jon gazed down at Abby. She was lying naked on a pile of soft, fluffy white cushions that he’d spread out on the sofa, her hair lay fanned out, the red was like so much blood in the snow against the white of the cushions. It was dark outside and the only illumination came from the soft orange glow of the gas fire, which cast long shadows across them both.

Jon thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life. Abby knew she’d never seen anything so beautiful as she gazed back at him.

With a smile she urged him into her as she pulled him back down to kiss him hard and long.

Abby gasped into his mouth as she felt the tip of him enter and stretch her. His magic was in his girth and boy did he know how to use it. Little by little he pushed his way into her, stretching her into a sense of delicious pain.

She whimpered as he inched his way in until he was fully sheathed in her body.

“You ok baby?” he whispered, grinning devilishly in the firelight, his full, lush lips, curved in a wicked smile.

“Oh god yes.” was her breathy reply, before she moaned as he slowly pulled himself out until the tip of his dick remained inside.

‘Oh this is good’, he thought as he rammed into her, wanting nothing more than to lose himself inside her. Dimly he heard a noise behind him but he was too lost in Abby to care.

Her back arching off the sofa, Abby was lost in a sea of sensation and feeling and knew she was about to be flung over the abyss once more. She could feel the heat and warmth, for they were two different sensations, of Jon as he plunged in and out of her. Curious little sensations took up residence in her brain; the feel of his balls slapping against the curve of her butt, a drop of sweat falling from his forehead onto her cheek, a pulsing vein in his forearm as he took all his weight off her. Inconsequential by themselves but so important all together. Finally, the pressure that had built became too much and she found herself screaming as she tipped over into the dark abyss followed shortly by Jon.

 

Abby woke up to find herself, wrapped in a faux fur throw on the sofa. Jon was standing, fully dressed, by the window, watching the snow settling out in the grounds. Faint lights in the distance winked on and off as boats made their way over the stormy, treacherous Atlantic. Sometime past the gentle drifting snow had developed into a raging blizzard.

“How long have I been asleep?” she asked, as, wrapping the throw around her, she made her way over to where he stood before snuggling into his warm embrace.

“Not long, ten, fifteen minutes at the most. I hadda get dressed in case Richie came down.” he explained as she looked at his clothing.

“Oh shit.” she exclaimed, “Richie. Oh god, I didn’t even think of him.”

“You can say that again darlin’.”

Abby groaned as his caramel molasses voice rang out from behind her. She turned, still encased in Jon’s grip, to see the tall man walking towards them.

“Ain’t even gonna ask if you’re naked under that, ‘cause I know y’are.” he winked as he came closer.

“What?” she asked, puzzled, turning to look at him.

“Clothes. They’re still in the hallway. ‘Sides, I reckon they could hear you two all the way back in Manhattan.” he laughed, his eyes twinkling good naturedly as she blushed a bright pillar box red.

Abby looked up at Jon who was trying not to laugh.

“It’s all right for you two. You’ve done things like this before, probably in the same room, possibly to the same woman!” she said dryly, smiling wildly, to show she could take a joke, “But if you’ll excuse me I need to go and get changed.” She rose on her tip toes to kiss Jon, who took advantage of her nakedness to squeeze a breast as she did so. 

Richie stood watching the lovers. They looked so good together he really hoped that Jon wasn’t going to let his natural ability to fuck things up when in a relationship get in the way. Abby squealed slightly, then giggled softly as Jon whispered something in her ear. Blushing slightly, she pulled the wrap tighter and smiling up at Richie as she passed him, went upstairs to change. Richie smiled broadly as he walked towards his best friend and soul mate. Who says soul mates have to be either the opposite sex or have a sexual union? Richie knew Jon was his soul mate. His was the longest relationship Richie’d ever had.

“So you wanna get me some food? And then we need to talk.”


	12. Whole lot of leavin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I bet it's warm in California  
> I think it's time to hit the road  
> I just might call that plain of gypsies  
> Whose searching for our pot of gold  
> Seems like lately there's a whole lot of leavin' goin' on"

Richie sat on the edge of the bed, sighing. Things had not gone to plan the night before and both had gone to bed angry with the other. Richie had tried so hard to get Jon to change his mind but Jon had been in an usually mulish mood and there was nothing Richie could say that would get Jon to change his mind. In some ways Richie understood the pressure the other man was under, hell he himself would buckle under even a quarter of what Jon took responsibility for yet he’d been shocked to see just how much pressure Jon was under.

  
“Fuck it Kidd, why didn’t you tell me how you were feeling? I coulda done something.” He muttered as he walked downstairs into the dimly lit kitchen. “Fuck, why am I up so fucking early? Coffee. I need coffee”.

  
He poured water into the coffee machine and set about measuring the ground Jamaican Blue mountain coffee that Jon loved so much. He opened the bag, savouring the herbal nuttiness and measured some into the top of the machine.

  
Richie was not, by nature, an early morning person but on those rare occasions that he found himself up before the sun he revelled in the peace it brought. He poured his coffee and brought it over to the kitchen table.

  
Various thoughts filtered through his mind as he sipped the dark brew.

  
Maybe it was a good thing that the band were having a hiatus. He couldn’t bring himself to use the phrase permanent break up. He had a few projects waiting to be brought to life and maybe this would give him the opportunity to work on his own material for a while without having to collaborate and compromise. It had become apparent to him that his music and Jon’s music were diverging ever so slightly, but as Jon was the head of the corp, Richie had always found it easier to give in and do what the boss said. Maybe now was the time he should step up and become his own boss. He drank his coffee and thought more on being his own boss. It had been a long time since he'd released his first solo album, so maybe it was time for him to do more.

Richie checked the clock, he was due to go see his mother at around 2pm. As he looked around the kitchen he saw an envelope on the microwave, addressed to him.

  
“Hmmm, you had better not be running away from this Jonny, and leaving me in the shit now.” He murmured as he opened the envelope.

‘Rich,

I know you’re angry with me and think I’ve gone off my head and maybe I have but when you’ve been responsible for what happened then it puts life into perspective and I don’t wanna be who I am anymore; the person I’ve turned into. Meeting Abby has made me see who I could become.

I have to go out for a couple of hours, I’ve left a credit card in Abby’s name in the envelope for her. Can you take her into Manhattan Xmas shopping? Take care of her Rich.

Jon.’

Richie blamed himself. He had seen Jon every week after the accident and hadn’t seen that Jon was slowly crumbling. Damn him! Damn his ‘keep it all inside’ attitude. Richie slumped down on the kitchen table, his head in his hands. Jon was falling apart inside and there wasn’t a damn fucking thing he could do to stop it. Dorothea hadn’t helped, slapping divorce papers onto what must have been an already fragile psyche just weeks after the accident. He laughed mirthlessly. What a fucking mess and if he was the one left to try and pick up the pieces then they were in a whole lot of trouble.

It wasn’t that Richie wasn’t capable of dealing with problems, it was that he chose not to. He just didn’t want to deal with them. That was what Jon did, what Jon was best at. The CEO of the Bon Jovi Corporation while Richie was just a board member who preferred to sit back and jam.  
Richie picked up his mobile. It was going to be a long day.

  
“Hey ma, yeah I’m fine…no nothing’s wrong, just couldn’t sleep, so I’m up early. Listen ma, I’m not gonna make it over today, something’s come up with Jon so I gotta stay around for another day. Yeah, nothing too serious but I gotta be here, so I’ll be over tomorrow. Yeah, will do, love you too ma.”

  
Richie finished his call and sat back in his seat. He’d give Jon another 24 hours then he was out of there. He had plans and was suddenly itching to get back home and start work on his own material. Smiling, he drained his cup and poured another.

 

Abby sat in front of the huge mirror and ran a comb through her curls as best she could. Her ribs were still mending and it hurt like hell to raise her arms above her head. She’d woken up alone and still wasn’t sure whether Jon had come to bed at all. She’d been living with him for a few days now and it no longer felt weird. She felt at peace, even if her memory had gone for a Burton.

She stood and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her skin was glowing and her hair shone with health and vitality. She was surprised as it hadn’t been that long since she’d been in a forced coma. She had on black skinny leg jeans and the palest pink cashmere sweater that should’ve clashed horribly with her red hair but strangely didn’t. She had a pair of black Timberlands on her feet, her one concession to her leg injury, as she’d desperately wanted the 4inch high black strappy stiletto’s that they’d seen whilst shopping for her. She’d begged Jon for them but he’d stood fast and refused to buy them. She’d tried giving him a puppy dog look but he’d countered with his version and she’d had to admit he was far better at pouting than she’d ever be. So, she was stuck with the Timberlands and some flat black pumps until her leg was better. She thought of Jon’s face pouting in the shoe shop and felt a strange kind of fluttering inside. She was still trying to analyse it when she reached the kitchen.

“Hey Abs.”

“Hi Richie. Good Morning, how are you?” she replied, smiling, “Have you seen Jon?”

“He’s gone out.” Richie replied, sipping his fourth coffee. “He’s left some cash for you for Xmas shopping and asked me to take you into Manhattan. If you’re up for it, that is.” he said, his brown eyes twinkling.

“Oh. Ok, I do need some things but I...” Abby replied, as she took a seat at the kitchen table after helping herself to a coffee.

“You ok darlin’?” Richie asked.

“Yeah, just …I feel a bit strange taking money to go shopping,”

Richie raised an eyebrow, most of the women he’d known would give their eye teeth to be given money.

  
“I guess I feel weird knowing that I do have money out there but I just don’t know where. Ugh this whole memory thing is a pain the arse, you know? I mean, I remember day to day things like money and food and tv and shit like that, just not who I am or where I live or what I do for a living. Jon said I was working admin at a music studio when we met but I just don’t remember any of it,” she shrugged, feeling slightly embarrassed,

 

“I don’t know much about amnesia but I’m sure it’s only temporary darlin’ and you’ll be yourself.” Richie said, smiling at her.

Abby smiled back and went to get a coffee.

  
“Do you know where Jon has gone? …I thought he might say goodbye to me before leaving.”

“Ah, well, you know Jonny. When he’s got something in his head it’s hard to get anything else out of him. He’s a stubborn son of a bitch sometimes.” Richie said, with a bit more anger than he wanted to show.

“Are you two ok? Did you have an argument or something last night? I mean, I know something happened…” she trailed off, not really knowing whether to say she’d heard most of the blazing row the night before, or not.

It must’ve shown on her face and Richie suddenly looked contrite.

“Ah, I hope we didn’t keep you awake. We can get quite heated when we disagree. But it’s nothing darlin’, just something that’s been simmering for a while and should’ve been dealt with a long time ago. We’ll be fine, hell it ain’t the first time we’ve ever argued. And at least we didn’t throw things at each other this time.” he smiled.

“Throw things?” she asked, intrigued by this revealing of another side to Jon.

“Hell, yeah, the first thing Jon ever threw at me was his shittin’ guitar! We were overwrought, all of us, at the end of the Jersey Tour and had been arguing on and off for days, weeks even. He and Dot were getting really hot and heavy and he’d disappear for hours without anyone able to get in contact with him, which meant we couldn’t practice and then one day he couldn’t speak and I thought he was putting it on a bit so I lost my temper and accused him of pulling a fast one just ‘cause he wanted to spend more time with Dot. Next thing I know this guitar comes whizzing through the air and catches me on the back of the head. I hit the deck, out cold, ya know, and end up in A&E having stitches put in a gash on the back of my head. Turns out Jon had polyps on his vocal chords and really couldn’t speak and had been going off to visit his doctor. He hadn’t said anything as he didn’t wanna scare us all as it was touch and go for a while whether he’d be able to sing again. But he had them removed and everything was ok.”

“Oh my god, did you get a scar?”

“Oh yeah, though it’s faded by now, there’s still a little bit of a bump, just under my hairline at the back.”

“Have you thrown anything at him?” Abby asked. She was really intrigued now at the thought of grown men throwing objects at each other like toddlers in a temper tantrum.

“Er, a mug of coffee, a torch, my mobile, no make that mobiles, and…oh yeah, a cowboy boot. Tico and Dave just used to duck under whatever was there until we’d got it out of our system. Alec would just sit in the corner and shake his head, like we were kids fighting over a toy,” Richie caught a look at the apprehension on Abby’s face, “Oh hey, don’t worry Abs, we haven’t thrown anything for years, only our voices at each other.”

“That’s good to hear,” she got up to go and get her coat and turned back, a wry smile on her face, “A cowboy boot? Really?”

“Yeah, I caught Jon trying to sneak somewhere he shouldn’t have been going so I threw my boot at him. If you look closely he’s got a very small scar in his eyebrow, where it hit him.”

“Where was he trying to sneak into?” She asked, wondering.

“Sorry babe, Jovi Family rules; if you weren’t there you ain’t getting told about it.” he shrugged, palms up.

“Ok, ok. I won’t ask.” she smiled as she went to get her coat.

The drive into Manhattan was fun. Richie was a funny man to talk to and soon had Abby in peals of hysterical laughter at some of the more outrageous exploits that he and Jon had got up to in the Eighties.

The limo driver pulled up outside Saks on Fifth Avenue. Abby had taken a moment to take the card out of the envelope to put into her handbag and had gasped as she read the hand-written note attached.

‘Hey babe  
This card is for you. I had it put in your name and the limit is $50,000. It’s for you to do whatever with. Don’t feel you have it spend it all at once! J

Jon  
Xxx

$50,000? What the hell am I going to spend fifty grand on? She thought as she shut her handbag and followed Richie out of the Limo.

They entered the opulent store and a manager, dressed in an expensive suit, or someone Abby took to be a manager, came running over.

“Mr Sambora, welcome to Saks Fifth Avenue. My name is Christian and I will be your personal shopper, if you have need of me.”

“Thanks Christian, but I think we’re fine at the moment. If I need you, I‘ll wink.” Richie said, smiling at the simpering salesman.

Abby looked at the forlorn young man as they walked away from him.

“Is he not a manager?” she asked, trying to keep up with Richie’s long strides.

“Nah, he’s a personal shopper.” He replied, walking on ahead, unaware of her plight.

He headed to the watches section as he wanted to get himself a new one. Not that he needed one, no, he just wanted it.

He turned to talk to Abby to find her not there. He looked behind and spotted her a few shoppers behind him. Feeling guilty for not remembering about her leg, he turned and walked back to her. Taking her arm in his he looked at her, smiling at a man who was right behind her.

“Sorry darlin’ I forgot about your leg. Here hold onto my arm and we’ll take it slow.”

Abby smiled to herself. With that slow drawl of his, nearly everything he said came out as a sexual innuendo, whether he meant it or not. She smiled up at his open, honest and damn right sexy face and smiled. She thought of Jon warning him off the night she’d met him and smiled to herself. ‘Oh Jon, there’s nothing to worry about there. He’s lovely but I love you, you daft…’

Love.

Her eyes widened slightly as the realisation jackbooted its way into her conscious. She loved Jon. That would explain the fluttery feeling she got whenever she thought of him and the liquid heat he managed to install in her limbs whenever he touched her. With a lightness in her heart she walked slowly with Richie, over to the watches section.

\-------------------------------------------

Cartier Roadster XL Chronograph. Abby grinned as she looked at the watch. It was perfect for Jon. The stainless-steel strap was masculine yet elegant and she just knew it would be perfect for him. She peeked at the price and her smile froze. Nearly nine thousand dollars and she bet that was without tax on top.

I guess I will be spending a lot of money today, after all, she thought as she handed over her credit card to the shop assistant who had so lovingly wrapped the watch for her, though Abby was sure that was more for Richie’s benefit as she watched the tall blond woman lean over the counter, lower than was necessary, just in order to show a little more cleavage. Abby took a quick peek at Richie. Yup, he’d seen and was enjoying the show.

Abby coughed, discreetly. Richie broke off from his cleavage show and looked at her. She raised an eyebrow to show she’d seen and he had the grace to look chagrined. At least, a little.

The assistant had finished whatever it was she was doing with the credit card and Abby entered the pin number she’d been given. A few moments later and she was standing holding the most expensive item she’d ever purchased. She was sure of it. Somehow spending all that money on one small item had seemed, for a few moments, incredibly decadent.

She put the card back in her handbag and waited as Richie concluded his purchase, which seemed to include the assistants phone number.

“Richie, you really are incorrigible.” she said, as he linked his arm in hers and led her to the jewellery section.


	13. A Woman in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Send me some silk stockings  
> Smooth talking lipstick and curls  
> I want a woman  
> More than a girl  
> Need some lip-locking, cool walking  
> Diamonds and pearls  
> I'll wrap 'em all up  
> And give them the world"

Jon looked at the diamond Riviere necklace in his hands. He’d purchased it the previous December at an auction at Rockefeller Plaza. He read the card that sat by itself in the velvet lined box. It was a William Goldberg design consisting of 51 graduated cushion-cut diamonds, mounted in platinum, 16 ins.

He’d bought it for Dot as a Christmas present but then the accident had happened. Then she’d filed for divorce and it had sat in its case in one of his bank deposit boxes ever since. The light sparkled off the impressive diamonds, little rays of rainbows danced across his handsome features. If he gave it all up he probably would never be able to afford something like this again. The band, the music, the merchandise; it would all go. The royalties would remain but the money coming in would drop drastically. He thought of Philadelphia Soul, the team he’d once part owned and all the charities he ran. The paperwork was in place to keep the charities going but his name would be removed from the company’s books. Maybe Richie was right. Maybe he should take some more time to think about it all. Trouble was, once he started thinking, her face would flash up in front of him and he would freeze, unable to think of anything other than her. He’d had counselling after the accident and knew, deep down, that it hadn’t been his fault. There’d been nothing he could’ve done to stop it but still he shouldered the guilt. It sat in his stomach, nestled like a cancer.

Jon put the necklace back into its box and put it back into the metal container, ready for it to go back into the hole in the wall in the bank vault. In the New Year he’d put it up for Auction. See if he could recoup some of the money he’d spent on it. He smiled ruefully, he’d not received much change from $550,000. He left the small room without a backwards glance. Time to move on. Time to change.

 

Abby sipped the coffee and sighed in pleasure. She and Richie had done some serious shopping and had only been to two shops. She’d put a serious dent in her credit card and was feeling wonderful. Retail therapy really worked. Richie had beaten her only in the amount he’d spent. She wondered what the limit was on his black Amex and then thought it probably didn’t have a limit. Oh, how wonderful that would be. To go through life without a limit on how much you could spend. She’d treated herself to a beautiful cushion cut diamond ring and hadn’t even balked at the price. She was desperate to wear it, having been fortunate to find one in her size, but Richie had warned her against trying it on in public. She knew she was being a bit silly and naïve but the schoolgirl in her wanted to jump up and shout with glee that she loved Jon Bon Jovi and had just spent loads of money.

Richie looked at Abby, sat across from him. She was positively glowing. Her eyes were bright and her smile was a permanent fixture. A thought hit him and he acted on it.

“You love him.” he said, softly.

Abby looked at him and smiled.

“I do.” She replied, her eyes dancing with joy.

“You look like someone in love. It’s nice. That feeling that you could do pretty much anything as the world is suddenly a wonderful place. I remember that feeling.” He replied, with rue.

“But I don’t know if he feels the same, so don’t say anything, please?” she begged, suddenly on the verge of tears.

“Judging by the way I got threatened off you the other night, I’d say he was feeling pretty much the same as you, but I’ll keep schtum. Don’t worry darlin’ I won’t say anything.”

“Thank you Richie. This is all so new to me. I can’t remember ever feeling like this before so I don’t know what to do.”, Abby chuckled suddenly, “God I must be behaving like a teenager.

Richie looked at the suddenly very young looking, vulnerable woman and felt a surge of protectiveness.

“Tell him darlin’, tell him how you feel. I can only guess what you’re thinking but wouldn’t it be nice to have him tell you he feels the same way?”

Abby smiled. “You’re such a nice person Richie. Thank you.”  
“Oh darlin’ if you knew what I was thinking right now you wouldn’t say that.” He chuckled, raising his eyebrows comically to show he was joking.  
“I was right.” She countered.  
“about what, darlin’? my devastating good looks and ability to flirt with anyone?”  
“You are incorrigible.” Abby deadpanned, enjoy the play flirt. 

 

Richie and Abby walked back into Jon’s house and stopped dead in their tracks. Jon was playing air guitar to some band on the TV, with a bright yellow and black bandanna wrapped round his head. He was head banging and seemed really caught up in the music. His eyes were shut and he had a bright smile plastered across his face. They watched, incredulously on Richie’s part, as Jon ran and, dropping to his knees, slid across the polished wood flooring, eyes still shut tight. The sound was turned up loud and he looked so carefree and happy that neither Richie nor Abby wanted to disturb him. Both, with big smiles on their faces, tried to tip toe into the kitchen area but Abby’s handbag knocked against the coffee table, which had been moved, causing it to scrape on the hard-tiled floor.

Jon heard a sound and spun around to see Abby and Richie grinning at him. He felt slightly sheepish.

“Oh, er hi.” he dropped his arms and stood, looking awkward.

“Oh man, I have seen it all now!” Richie hooted with laughter, “Jon Bon Jovi playing air guitar to some, one hit wonder band.”

Jon grinned, unabashed as he caught the look in Richie’s eyes and joined in with the laughter.

Abby stood to one side, perplexed and slightly puzzled as the two men broke in peals of hysterics.

She sat down on the heavy coffee table and watched as Jon slid to the floor, tears of laughter running down his face. It made her laugh to see him acting like a schoolboy, playing air guitar to his favourite bands. He’d seemed so distant that first day, that seeing him opening up, bit by bit as she got to know him, was just a wonderful feeling that spread inside her and made her heart swell with joy.

Finally the laughter subsided and Richie sat down on the sofa, intent on watching the program which was, funnily enough, about one-hit wonders from the eighties and nineties.

Jon got up off the floor and padded over to Abby.

“Hey babe,” he said, sitting down next to her, “Sorry I wasn’t around this morning but I had some papers to sign.” he planted a soft kiss on the top of her head.

Abby looked into his bright blue eyes. “That’s ok. Just don’t do it again.” she grinned, thinking of the presents she’d bought him. She just knew he’d love them and couldn’t wait for him to open them.

“So, did you have a good time shopping?” he asked softly, his shoulder, brushing gently against hers.

Abby felt a liquid warmth spread through her system. She wondered how to get him upstairs without making it too obvious.

Jon watched her eyes dilate and darken, a rosy flush began to spread across the exposed skin of her chest and neck. He heard the small hitch in her breathing and smiled…slowly and sensually.

He looked over at Richie who was engrossed in the TV program. He turned back to Abby and placing a finger across his lips, silently led her to the stairs.

“Have fun you two.” Richie’s voice rang out from the sofa.

Jon looked into Abby’s flushed face and grinned. He intended to.

 

Jon led her into his bedroom. She looked around the huge room. It was her first time in it. It was bare, except for a huge king-sized bed that dominated the space and a few pictures, placed strategically on the white walls. It was totally the opposite of what she’d thought his room would be like.

Jon took her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin against his. Unresisting, she allowed him to lead her to the bed.

Slowly he began to caress her breasts, revelling in the softness of the cashmere sweater and the hardness of her nipples. He reached down and nipped at the tender, sweet skin on her neck, watching heat infuse the area. He slowly licked the same area until it was wet and then blew softly across it, causing goose bumps.

Abby shivered with desire as Jon began to lick and kiss her neck. Oh god it felt so good. She tried to bring her arms up around his neck and winced as her sore ribs protested.

“Hey baby, you ok?” Jon murmured as he softly squeezed her breast, thumbing the nipple through her clothing.

The pain subsided as heat rushed through her. “Mmm hmm.” she murmured as she started to overheat in the cashmere.

“Jon…help me?” she breathed, looking at him.

“With what baby?” he smirked. He’d seen the flush and could feel the heat of her skin. He turned his attention back to nipping her skin, small wet kisses trailing down to the gentle swell of her breasts, barely visible in the V neck sweater.

Abby gasped as she felt liquid heat pooling in her underwear. She reached out and began to unbutton his jersey, thankful to all the Gods that had ever existed that he had an affinity for button up jerseys. She felt the soft downy hair that covered his muscular chest and smiled to herself. The smile turned into a gasp as she felt Jon’s tongue lave her nipple. He’d pulled the hidden zip of the sweater down and pushed her bra out of the way, leaving her breasts exposed to the air and to his nimble tongue and fingers.

“Oh god.” she stammered, her head hanging back as he nibbled and licked his way around her sensitive breasts.

Jon groaned as he licked a bead of sweat from between her breasts and breathed in her scent.

“Honey, please? My jeans?” she breathed, trying to wriggle herself out of them in a futile manner.

He broke away from her, causing her to shiver in the cool air.

He smiled wickedly up at her as he took the zip of the jeans into his mouth and slowly pulled the zip down, tooth by tooth, or so it seemed to Abby who was slowly being driven insane by lust.

“Jon,” she began, trying to sound coherent, “If you don’t pull my jeans off and then bury your cock inside me and fuck me hard then I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

Her jeans and underwear hit the floor, as did his. She looked at him in all his splendour and smiled broadly. He was magnificent naked and especially so with a large erection pointing in her direction. She looked at the purpling head with a drop of pre-cum nestled in the tip and swallowed heavily. She wanted to taste him.

Abby wriggled down the bed until she was within reach and before Jon could do anything she reached her tongue out and tasted him.

He hissed in pleasure as he felt her wrap her hot, wet tongue around his cock, feeling silver heat shoot straight to his balls. His eyes had darkened to a smoky indigo and he looked down at her through heavy lids.

Abby drew closer to him and took him into her mouth, marvelling at the feel and taste of him. She could smell his clean yet musky masculine scent rising from him and breathed it in deeply. Slowly she moved up and down his shaft, using the flat of her tongue on the underside, feeling the vein harden.

Jon placed a hand on her head and the other on her shoulder. His breathing deepened, as she swirled her tongue all over his cock.

Short, wiry hair tickled her nose as she nibbled and licked her way around his cock, her nose pressed against the cushion of hair at the base.

He smelt as he tasted. Absolutely delicious. Musk with a hint of chocolate and vanilla.

“Baby, baby, Abby…stop, stop, stop. I’m gonna cum…” he moaned, writhing.

He pulled away from her and lay her back on the bed.

“You are so good at that.” he panted, “A bit too good.” he murmured as he looked at her, spread out before him.

Abby lay on her back, feeling the softness of the down comforter underneath her. She felt complete and content and totally wanton. Smiling up at Jon, she bent her legs and opened them.

Jon’s eyes dilated to pure black as he looked at her. His breathing quickened as she slowly reached down, through the soft hair and began to slowly rub her clitoris, all the while keeping eye contact with him.

Damn if that wasn’t the most erotic thing he’d seen for a good while. He licked his lips, feeling the silver heat building up again. His cock was rock hard and he slowly palmed it, pulling the sensitive skin back over the now tender head.

Abby felt the bundle of nerves under her fingers and rubbed it lightly. She moaned low in the back of her throat as electricity swarmed out from her centre. She lay panting softly as she reached out her finger.

Jon had had enough of watching and leant down to capture her hand.

“No more playing.” he said, his darkened eyes boring into her.

Abby looked him dead in the eye. “Jon? Fuck me senseless.”

Jon had always known words to be erotic; hell, he made a living from them, but he’d never had it used on him before.

He moved up the bed and positioned himself between her legs before plunging his cock into her hot, wet depth. Oh god, she felt so good, wrapped around him. He felt her walls pulsating slightly around him. It was so good, he wanted it to last forever.

Abby moaned aloud as he plunged into her, stretching her, filling her completely. He raised himself up onto his hands as he plunged forcefully into her, faster and faster.

“Touch yourself.” he commanded, his lust drenched eyes boring into hers.

Abby reached down and rubbed her clitoris, panting heavily as she did so. Oh god, there it was. That deliciously exquisite hot pain that built up inside her. She rubbed harder, not wanting to lose the intensity.

Jon watched as desire rippled across Abby’s features. He knew she was close and wanted her to cum before he did. He saw her eyes screw shut and reached down to join her hand.

Abby’s eyes flew open in wonder as she felt Jon’s fingers join hers. Together they pressed down hard on the little nub. Her head tipped back, her eyes shut tight as she shouted his name.

Deep, hot pleasure rippled through her body. Her legs shook with the effort and Jon groaned loudly as he felt her internal walls clamp tight and painful around his engorged cock. He pulled out and plunged back in once more before silver heat shot through him, his balls contracted and he screamed through his orgasm.

Jon’s heart beat rapidly in his chest as he flopped down next to Abby.

“Oh my fuck. Baby, baby, baby.” he breathed heavily, sweat saturating his skin.

“Ready for round two?” Abby whispered, reaching over to plant a row of kisses along his collar bone.


	14. In and out of love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're wired  
> Set to explode in the heat  
> You won't tire  
> 'Cause Baby, you were born with the beat  
> Take you higher than you've ever known  
> She'll send you down to your knees  
> Then pick you up when you've had enough  
> You've been burnin', Baby"

Abby bolted awake, her heart pounding, ragged breathing and the remnants of the nightmare slowly slipping away behind her tightly shut eyes. She slowly opened her eyes, convinced that the face she’d dreamt about would be in front of her.  

Darkness. 

She willed her heart to slow down, the blood rushing in her ears to go away.  
She could hear Jon softly snoring next to her and began to calm down a little. She breathed heavily, feeling limp and weighty. Her eyes felt heavy and sore; as if she’d been sobbing. Jon shifted in his sleep and she turned her head to look. Her eyes became adjusted to the night and she could just make out a head of tousled hair peeking out of the quilt. He was sprawled on his front, sleepy limbs spread out. Abby smiled. She lay still for a while feeling totally depleted by the nightmare. 

‘Come on Abs, it was only a bad dream and it’s gone now. Jon’s here, okay he’s asleep and it’d take a bloody nuclear attack to wake him, but he’s here and you’re safe.’ she thought, laying in a cocoon of warmth under the blanket and quilt.  

She breathed in the cool night air wishing that Jon was a light sleeper and not one of the dead when it came to sleep. Talk about Sleep When I’m Dead, Jon was more like I’ll Sleep Like The Dead. The first morning she’d woken up next to him she’d turned to face him, all sleepy smiles and happiness and had kissed him to wake him. She’d got up, sighing heavily, after he’d grumbled at her, burped, turned over and gone back to sleep for half an hour. 

Abby lay, wondering whether it was worth going back to sleep. She looked at the bedside clock and groaned. 

2:07am. 

Whispers of the nightmare spoke to her as soon as she closed her eyes. She huffed, angrily, as she pushed the warm, heavy quilt off and swung her legs round to sit on the edge of the bed. Yawning madly but too scared to try and sleep she shuffled across the shag pile carpet and, grabbing Jon’s dressing gown off the back, quietly opened the door, letting it shut behind her with a quiet snick. 

There was low level lighting inlaid into the skirting boards and she followed the slight illumination along the corridor and down the stairs. The night air was cool but not cold. The heating which was always turned to tropical had only been off a brief time. Still, Abby didn’t like the dark and the lights only provided a small amount of illumination. She hurried down the wooden staircase and padded softly to the kitchen. 

She shivered and pulled the dressing gown tighter around her, her feet cold on the tiled floor.  
She switched the light on under the cabinets and sat down at the kitchen table. Abby sighed. The nightmare was liftin but she was still caught in the remnants. Darkness, a voice, smashed glass, a tv on in the background and faint moans and whimpers. Sitting in the relative warmth light of the kitchen she felt more able to think about the dream but it had faded too much for her recall any major details.  
She had a feeling of déjà vu as if she’d had the nightmare before but her swiss cheese memory wouldn’t give her any details about when. She remembered a dream she’d had as a child about a herd of white horses that had been running parallel to the ocean, along a sand dune when they’d suddenly changed track and had raced towards the churning, grey water. She had been by the water’s edge and had screamed at them to stop but they hadn’t listened and horse after horse drowned in front of her, thrashing in the bubbling waves, the sound of their screams all around her. It had frightened her for weeks afterwards until she’d all but forgotten it. She’d dreamt it again a few years later but from an unfamiliar perspective. She’d been standing on the dune, dumb struck watching a younger version of herself fail at saving the horses. She’d been an outsider looking in, totally unable to either stop the horses from drowning or to help her younger self. There had been no reason at all for the horses to race into the water and yet they still did it. This second dream had taken months before she’d felt safe enough to sleep without a light on. 

“Hey baby. What are you doing in here?” A gruff sleepy voice intruded into her thought and she focused on the man standing in the kitchen archway. 

“Hi. Sorry, I had a nightmare and didn’t want to wake you, so I came down here. What’s the time?” she asked, yawning as she did. 

“A little after 5am.” Jon replied, rubbing his bare arms to keep the chill from them. 

“Oh, I’ve been here for three hours, I thought my bum was getting numb.” 

Jon walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling his chin on the top of her head.  
“A nightmare?” he queried, as her words struck him. 

“Mmmm, I can’t remember a lot of it. It’s faded now but there was darkness and a face above me. It’s probably because of the blow to my head and the holes in my memory. Everything is a bit churned up.” She smiled, weakly at him, feeling on the verge of tears, “Sorry, I must be tired and overwrought I guess.” She said as a tear dripped down her face. 

“Oh, hey baby, everything will be ok. You’ll be fine I promise. I know you will.” Jon said, turning her round to face him. He cradled her face in his hands and pulled her to him, kissing her forehead. 

“Will I? Why hasn’t it come back? It’s been almost a month. Is anyone missing me?” she ground out, tears of frustration running down her face. 

“Hey, Abby, baby. Where is this coming from? You now the Doc said it could take months even for your memories to resurface and…” he trailed off, uncomfortable. 

It was at this point his conscience which had been so quiet for so long, decided to come back in force.  
‘Hey asswipe! Remember that time you hit a complete stranger with your car and brought her back to live with you cause she lost her memory? Yeah? You better pray she never remembers otherwise you’re in so much shit, bud.’ 

“I know, some of it may never come back. I know that. What do I do Jon?” she looked up into his concerned face, “what do I do if none of it ever comes back and I’m stuck as the person I am now?” 

Jon smiled down at her, “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with the person you are right now. I happen to like that person very much…,” he paused and bent down, touching his forehead against hers, “In fact, you could say I love that person very much.” Jon leant forward and kissed her, cradling her head softly, wiping away her tears. 

Abby was so lost in the moment it took a while before his words penetrated her tired, emotional brain. 

She pulled back from the kiss and looked up at him, quizzically. 

“You love…me?” she asked, her voice unsure and soft. 

Jon smiled and nodded. “I didn’t realise it until I said it. For someone who spends his time writing about love I’ve been an idiot. Yes, I love you. I love everything about you, even the bits I don’t yet know.” He chuckled, bending to kiss her again. 

She murmured against his embrace. 

“Huh?” he muttered as he placed small kisses along her jaw line, feeling the hitch in her breathing. 

“I love you too.” She breathed out, squirming under his touch. 

Jon’s soul settled with an immense sense of peace as he swept her into his arms, kissing her hard. 

Abby squealed with laughter as Jon spun her round in his grasp. 

“Come to bed?” he whispered into her ear, his voice low and full of promise. 

Abby smiled. “I will but I want to ask a favour from you first.” She said, as Jon nibbled his way down her neck, pushing the plush dressing gown off her shoulders to get better access.

“Mmmm? Anything darlin’.” He murmured, his breath hot against her breast.

“Hnnngh…” she breathed, feeling his tongue snake out to lick a nipple.

“I need to find out who I am, will you help me?” she managed to grind out as Jon sucked her nipple into his hot mouth, swirling his tongue around it.

“Anything, just later…” he replied, coming up to kiss her, “Bed, now…” he growled, not wanting to wait any longer.

Abby twisted her head to the wooden kitchen table.

“Table.” She hopped up onto the table and smiled at him.

Jon’s eyes darkened as he looked at her lying on the table, the dressing gown swamping her. She looked so fragile yet delectable.

He reached out and grabbed a foot in each hand and slowly began to pull her down the table until her legs hung off the end.

Abby wriggled out of the dressing gown and lay back on the soft, fluffy material. 

Jon ran the palm of his hand up from between her legs to the waist band of her draw string pyjama pants. Abby bucked slightly at the heat from his touch. She bit her lip, waiting. 

“Uhuh, baby. Patience. Remember who’s in control.” He growled, smiling at her.

Abby bit her lip again and whimpered slightly.

Slowly, Jon undid the ties around her waist and pulled on them.

“Lift your hips up a bit…there we go.” He murmured as he pulled the material slowly down her legs, exposing her.

Abby was finely balanced on the table, feeling the weight of her dangling legs threaten to tip her over but managing to stay in position. Jon pulled up a chair and sat in front of her legs. His erection was tight against his PJs and he shifted to get comfortable. He reached down and grabbed an ankle in each hand, lifting her legs until the soles of her feet were in his lap. 

Abby wriggled her toes, feeling his erection under the cotton material. The heat generated by this man was incredible. 

Jon hissed at the contact and pressed his hand down against her feet, trapping them.

“Oh no, no baby, no, no. This is all you.”

He lifted her feet and positioned them on the table so that she was spread wide open in front of his face.

“Keep your feet there and don’t move.” He crooned as he bent to plant feather light, wet kisses along her inner thighs. She glorious in her nakedness, spread out before him. He felt like a starving man at a feast.

It was all Abby could do to lay back and enjoy the sensations spiralling through her. She could feel the roughness of his stubble rubbing against the tender skin of her thighs and groaned deep in her throat. She could only imagine what that would feel like on her clit.

 

Jon reached up and lightly ran his fingers through the soft downy curls. Abby gasped as she felt a slight pressure on her clit and moaned at the loss of it.

“Oh Abs, did I ever tell you how delicious you are?” He said, looking at her exposed, wet pussy, “I could eat you all day.” He growled before sucking her clit into his mouth, feeling the small nub harden and tighten.

Abby gave a strangled shriek, as overwhelming sensations flooded her system. Oh, she was sure she was going to die. She was on the precipice already and he’d only just started. If he carried on like this how in the name of all things good was she going to get through it.

She closed her eyes and moaned as a small electrical charge shot through her, causing her insides to flutter lightly. As far as she was concerned, that was just a pre- shock. The big one was yet to come.

Jon grinned to himself as he felt her shudder underneath him. God, she was just so damned responsive to him. Continuing to suck lightly on her clit, he pushed a finger inside her. She was just so hot and wet his erection bobbed against his waistband.

Lazily he pumped his finger in and out of her, curling the tip slightly to catch her g spot. He knew when he had as her hips bolted up from the table. He reached up and without breaking stride, placed the palm of his other hand on her pelvis and pushed her back down.

Jon loved sex. He loved the smell, the taste, the sights and sounds and above all the touch. What he loved more than that was giving pleasure to the woman he was with. To know that she was wrung through and limp with passion and that he’d done that to her was, in his estimation, the best experience ever. To look into a woman’s eyes and see the out of control glaze of passion and emotion was as good as having an orgasm himself. He was proud he could do that to a woman and leave her sated and satisfied.

He entered another finger into her and thrust into her harder. He released her clit from the confines of his mouth and, darting his tongue out, began to lick her with lightning speed.

Abby buckled under his touch. She was gushing liquid and an immense pressure was building that she wasn’t sure she’d get over.

Jon tasted her juices as they ran over his tongue and he groaned. She was so damned tasty. He had been serious when he’d said he could eat her all day. She was fresh and clean and just essentially Abby. He sucked the liquid into his mouth and swallowed, his tongue darting out to catch more nectar. He twisted his fingers as he pumped her, feeling ripples across her belly under his other hand.

Abby blindly reached out to grab the dressing gown as a massive arc of electricity radiated from her core into every fibre of her being. Her head tipped back and her eyes closed, her mouth open in a never-ending O. She couldn’t speak or think or do. She could only just be.

The intensity of her orgasm caught both by surprise as she tightly clamped onto Jon’s fingers, trapping them momentarily before gushing a clear liquid all over his face, the dressing gown and the table underneath.

A thin high-pitched wail echoed around the room as she shook under the force of the orgasm.

Jon pulled back and pushed down on her pelvis gently, anchoring her to the table; bringing her back to life.

After what seemed an eon, Abby spoke, her voice croaky yet full.

“Fuck me. Now”

Jon didn’t need another invite. He stripped off his PJs and plunged his hard cock into her without a moment’s hesitation.

Oh god, she was so fucking hot inside. Jon thought he was to pass out from the heat. He stood, trying to steady himself from being sucked under the maelstrom. Gently, he lifted her shaking legs and rested them on his shoulders, giving her more stability and him a deeper thrust. He grasped her hips and rammed into her as if his life depended on it. 

Abby gasped, trying to catch what little breath she had left. She was caught in a whirlpool, the current threatening to pull her under. She gave in without hesitation as another orgasm crashed over her. Her limbs were heavy and tired and she was wrung through.

It caught Jon by surprise and his orgasm was ripped from him with an intensity he’d not felt before as Abby’s muscles clamped tightly around his cock. His head spun with the effort of standing up and he collapsed over her, sweat pouring from them both.

Jon wrapped his arms around Abby and held onto her, unable to put into words what he was feeling.


	15. Wildflower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She wakes up when I sleep to talk to ghosts like in the movies  
> If you don't follow what I mean, I sure don't mean to be confusing  
> They say when she laughs she wants to cry  
> She'll draw a crowd then try to hide  
> Don't know if it's her or just my mind I'm losing"

“Hey Sutton, my office now.”

Luke sighed as he heard his Captain’s distinctive bellow across the crowded squad room. He wondered, as he pushed his chair away from his desk, what kind of bollocking he was going to get this time. Truth was, he was nowhere with his missing person. He’d had the pizza box he’d found sent to forensics but there were no discernible latent prints, only badly smudged partials that had no matches in AFIS, the automated fingerprint identification system, nor was there enough DNA, from either skin epithelials or body fluids, in order to track a DNA fingerprint through CODIS, the Combined DNA Index System. He was up shit creek and the paddle had said goodbye a long time ago.

He walked over feeling very much like a man going to the gallows.

“You want to see me Captain?” Luke said, feeling nervous and angry. Angry that he was in this situation to begin with. Angry that he’d been taken off a murder just to find some missing woman, who probably wasn’t missing at all and who was probably holed up with a boyfriend somewhere.

“Yeah, get down to the cells, someone’s just been booked for using a stolen credit card...”

“Captain, what the fuck?” Luke snapped.

“…in the name of Jenna Riley. I assume you haven’t found her yet?”

Luke shook his head, slightly abashed.

“Didn’t think so,” the Captain said, tightly, “So get down there. She‘s a junkie and you don’t have much time before she spirals.”

Luke turned to go.

“And Sutton?,”

Luke turned back.

“Don’t fuck this one up.”

Luke’s jaw tightened in anger.

 

Luke sat opposite the young, skinny girl, dressed in a tight, short skirt and a tight teeshirt that stretched across her small breasts. She was wearing an oversized parka coat with ragged, grubby fur around the hood, torn tights and a pair of fake Ugg boots with multiple stains all over them. He had her details in front of him, or, at least, the details she’d given them. Whether they were true or not was up for grabs.

“So, Melissa, It is Melissa isn’t it?, not Jenna by any chance?”

Melissa scowled, making her face ugly. She sat hunched up in the grey plastic chair and chewed on her ragged fingernails. Her fingerprints had already been taken and she screwed her face up as she tasted some left over ink residue.

“You know, if you don’t stop biting your nails you’ll reach your elbows one day.” Luke said softly.

She flashed a look at him and he was taken aback by the sheer amount of hatred in her eyes.

“How old are you Melissa?” he asked.

“18.What the fuck‘s it gotta do with you.” came her sullen reply.

“Let’s try again, how old are you?”

“17.”

“And again?”

“16.”

Luke raised his eyebrows, keeping direct eye contact. Beneath the caked on make-up and the arrogance, she was barely a young adult.

“Melissa, we have your fingerprints and if you’re already in the system then you know it’ll only be a matter of time before we know everything about you. If you don’t tell me the truth, then I can’t help you and using a stolen credit card is a felony for which you could be jailed. Do you understand? You could be locked up for this? So, let’s cut the bullshit shall we and start telling me the truth.” he said harshly, staring at the underfed girl in front of him. 

He knew that whatever had led her to the state she was in must have been bad but right now, he didn’t have the time or the inclination to care. He had a missing adult to find and if he had to bulldoze his way through some fucked up teenager then he would. He would feel bad about it when he could afford to.

A film of tears appeared in the girl’s eyes, making her look even younger.

“I’m 15.” she said, her voice hollow and defeated.

“That’s better. Where did you find the card?” he asked, watching the girl sink lower and lower into her seat.

He lowered his voice and relaxed his stance.

“Melissa, I’m not interested in what you tried to buy with the card or even that you had it. I want to know where you found it. If you co-operate with me, I’ll see what I can do about the charges.” Luke said, knowing full well that there was nothing he could do.

Melissa lifted her head to look at him. Her eyes were glassy but held malevolence, her skin mottled and drawn. She had the look of an addict. Luke wondered how long she’d been smoking and whether she was now injecting.

“Bryant Park.” she said in a quiet voice.

“When?”

“Huh?” she said.

“When did you find it?” Luke asked, softly. He knew he had to work fast as she seemed to be losing the plot fast.

“Erm, like two days ago? I was there…to meet some friends,” she said, shifting in her seat, which Luke translated as ‘I was there to score’, “And I saw this red thing sticking out of the dirt, I waited till my friends had gone and then dug it up. It was a wallet.”

Luke sat up straighter. Did this mean she had the wallet on her? No, of course she didn’t, she’d been searched already before she’d been placed in the holding cells, along with having her fingerprints taken.

“What did you do with the wallet.”

“Um…threw it.” her voice was wispy

“Where? Think Melissa, please. Where did you throw it?”

“Hmm?”

“the wallet? Where did you throw it?”

“Oh, the park. I took the credit card and dropped the wallet back into the hole.”

“What hole?” Luke asked, wondering if his luck had run out. He was proved right when she leant forward and vomited all over the grey lino, before collapsing into a shuddering heap.

Thankfully help was on hand and Luke left her in their capable hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Abby felt a strong pair of arms encircle her waist.

“Morning beautiful.” Jon whispered, huskily, as he bent to nibble on her neck.

She giggled as she felt his warm lips and tongue sweep the skin under her ear. It was a tender, ticklish spot which he well knew about, and she squirmed slightly in his grasp.

“Jon…stop. It hurts.” she gasped, laughing, her heart rate accelerating under his touch.

Jon let her go, reluctantly on his part, and she turned to look at him. God he was just the most beautiful man she had ever seen…and yet there was a stillness to him that she couldn’t explain. A kind of deep sadness that ran through him that no-one could reach. Sometimes his smile just didn’t reach his eyes and it made her sad to see, knowing that she couldn’t help him.

He opened his arms and she walked into his embrace, feeling his warmth envelop her, his scent surrounded her, and she felt at peace.

They were outside the house, standing by the covered over swimming pool. It had snowed over night and there was a deep layer covering everything in sight. Pale sunlight glinted through the slight, low lying mist, lending the landscape a golden, fantastical yet slightly surreal look.

Abby turned in Jon’s embrace and sighed with joy at the sight before them.

“You know, it seems like a unicorn is going to come galloping up any minute, and that we could look over at the ocean and see the Lady of the Lake holding up Excalibur.” she said softly as Jon lent forward to rest his head on her shoulder, holding her tightly to him.

“It does, doesn’t it? The way the light reflects off those trees and makes everything golden, I feel that King Arthur himself could appear…any minute.” he murmured.

Abby turned her head to look at him. She looked at the wry smile and narrowed her eyes.

“Are you taking the piss?” she asked, her lips curling up involuntarily.

“No! Whatever gave you that idea?” he started to say but giggled half way through and totally ruined it.

“Jon? You’re a shit.” she said, smiling.

He laughed and walked back towards the kitchen for a coffee refill. Abby could still hear him laughing as he poured them coffee.

Jon looked at the two cups and laughed some more.

“Unicorn?” he murmured softly to himself, “Excalibur?”; more laughter.  
“Abs, you’re nuts you really are.” he whispered, again to himself as he poured two cups of black coffee. A song broke through his consciousness as he carried the cups back outside, glad of his thick windbreaker.

“She wakes up when I sleep, talks to ghosts like in the movies.”

He sang in softly all the way back out to where Abby was perched on a wooden seat, wrapped up in a thick woollen blanket, watching the waves.

“…Wildflower…” he murmured as he handed her a cup.

“Hmm?” she murmured back, quite entranced by the frosty, winter wonderland sight in front of her.

“Nothing.”

Jon took a sip of the scalding liquid and gingerly set the cup down on the bench.

“Abs?”

“Yeah?” she replied, staring out to sea, lost in the haunting beauty.

“I want to take you to meet my parents today.”


	16. What's left of me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I got a lot to give say can you see  
> I'm still breathing and my heart still beats  
> They took the car but they left the lease  
> Does anybody want what's left of me?"

Jon pulled the Corvette up the driveway of his parent’s house and cut the engine. They still lived in the house he’d grown up in and he loved coming home to see them. Out of all the places he’d been in his life and all the houses he’d lived in, this one was the closest to his heart; the one place he always felt safe and loved. Every room held a good memory and one room in particular, his old bedroom, held some great memories, some of them so great he was still glad his mom didn’t know what he’d gotten up to in the dead of the night. He turned to look at Abby.

Abby sat looking at the slightly weather worn, but well loved and cared for, two storey house. It had a double garage attached to it and a huge, sloping front lawn. It was a big but welcoming house that just screamed of home. She was feeling so nervous she could scream. Even with her patchwork memory she knew it a big deal to ‘meet the parents’. She’d been quiet on the journey over, feeling…well she wasn’t really sure what it was that she was feeling. Anxious, nervous, excited, happy, sad. Take your pick.

“Ok babe, we’re here,” Jon said as he opened his door, indicating that she should do the same, “I hope to God they’re in.” he added as an after-thought as he locked the car up and they made their way over to the front door. 

A huge evergreen wreath hung on the door, covered in red holly berries and mistletoe. A sign hung further below it proclaiming “A Merry Xmas” to all who read it.

Jon knocked the door and pulled Abby closer to him. He was, all of a sudden, really nervous. What if his mom didn’t like her? Or worse, what if she saw straight through him and into the lie he had created a world around.

The door opened, and he smiled. A real smile, not the fake megawatt smile used all around the world, but a real, genuine happy smile.

“Hey mom, surprise!” he said, sounding quite lame, as he and Abby moved passed his mom and into the hallway.

The house was cosy and warm inside and spoke of love and affection. Honey coloured wood gleamed all around them with fairy lights sparkling from every available nook and cranny. Jon led the way into the elegant but homely living room.

“Jon! What are you doing here? I wish you‘d called.” his mom said, sounding completely surprised.

Abby could hear a car pulling up outside and glanced through the front windows to see a humvee parked next to Jon’s corvette.

“Since when do I need an appointment mom? Where’s dad?” he asked, his smile beginning to slip.

A car door slammed.

“Oh Jon, Dot’s here, with the kids. She called yesterday and asked if they could come visit. I didn’t know you’d turn up as well, your dad’s just gone to the shops to get some more milk…” his mom trailed off as the door banged open and three boys ran in.

“Granma!”

A brown haired boy came barrelling in only to stop dead in his tracks.

“Dad?” he said, disbelief in his voice.

“Hey Romie.” Jon replied his manner stiff at first, which then melted completely as his son ran to him and wrapped his arms around Jon’s legs.

Jon sank to the floor to embrace him fully, feeling a tear fall down his face.

“I’ve missed you so much Romie.” he whispered as the young boy sniffled, his face buried in Jon’s chest.

Jon looked up to see two sets of equally surprised yet wary eyes staring back at him. He smiled and held his free arm out to them.

His middle son cam over straight away but his eldest held back. Jon looked at him sadly.

“Dad, what are you doing here? Does Mom know you’re here?” Jake

“I came to visit your Granma, Jake. I didn’t know you guys were going to be here but I’m so glad you are.” He could feel a part of his heart starting to thaw as he breathed in the familiar scent of his youngest children, Romeo and Jake. His eldest son, Jesse, just stood back in the doorway of the room, either unable or unwilling to go near his dad.

“Jesse, what are you doing standing in the doorway? Go on, go in, I’ve got my hands full of presents and need to put them…”

Jon looked up into the face of his ex-wife as her voice trailed off.

“Jon.” she said, looking for a place to put the brightly wrapped parcels.

“Dot.” he replied, feeling lost for words.

Abby looked at the beautiful elegant woman standing, looking at Jon with disdain and wanted to disappear. She could feel the waves of animosity flowing across the room and wanted nothing more than to not be there.

“Boys can you come here please?” Dot asked, the tone pleasant enough. Her eyes and demeanour were hard.

Jake and Romeo pulled back from their dad reluctantly and made their way over to where Dot stood, her spine tense.

“Did you do this Carol? Did you ask him over here knowing we would be here?” Dot turned and asked her ex mother-in-law, harshly.

“No…” Carol faltered.

“Hey Dot leave my mom alone, ok? She didn’t know we were coming over today and I had no idea you were gonna show up, so let’s just drop it, ok, and see if we can’t play Happy Families, just for one day?” Jon said, hoping to god she’d agree and he’d get to spend a couple of hours with his boys.

Dot looked from him to her two youngest and after what seemed like an eternity, she relaxed somewhat and nodded her agreement.

Abby could feel the tension flowing out of the room as both Jon and Dot silently agreed to be on their best behaviour, if only for a few hours.

Dot shucked her coat off and laid it across the back of a chair. She looked around the once familiar room and her eyes settled on Abby.

“So, Jon, you gonna introduce us?” Dot asked.


	17. Stick to your guns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Stick to your gun  
> Ain't nobody gonna hurt you, baby  
> You can go for the trigger  
> But only if you have to"

Thwack! The cue ball spun away from the end of the cue. Jon didn’t care whether it hit the target or not. What a fucking awful day. Dot and the boys had only stayed for a couple of hours before leaving with a hastily made up excuse. Even so she’d still managed to make him feel about yay small. Abby had done her best to keep the conversation light and bright and, well, flowing but even she’d had to admit defeat under the barrage of monosyllabic responses. The only bright part of the day had been spending time with his sons, even though Jesse hadn’t left his mum’s side the entire time. He hated the way she made him feel and she didn’t even have to say a word in order to do so. Just a look, an accusation made silently by eyes he was so familiar with and yet didn’t really know.

At least his mum seemed to like Abby. She’d pulled him aside as Abby had gone to the bathroom and had smiled and kissed his cheek. This was the closest she ever got to congratulating him. Even after all this time and everything he’d achieved he couldn’t remember the last time he’d received a ‘well done son, I’m proud of you’ from her. It wasn’t fair. Tony and Matt had always been hugged and petted but not him; never him.

Mind elsewhere he took another shot, the colours blurring as a film of tears filled his eyes. Angrily he blinked them away. Now was not the time to get upset over a perceived familial slight.

He sighed and surveyed the table, its brightly coloured balls seemed to be mocking him in their garish frivolity. He slammed the cue down onto the green baize and rested, bent over the table, gripping the wood so hard veins stood out on his forearms. His head bent low as he stared unseeing. It wasn’t even a year since…since the accident…since his world had been shattered and turned upside down…

‘Fuck it, it wasn’t my fault. There was no way I could’ve stopped in time, all the cops said so.’ He muttered as he stepped back to line up his next shot.

Abby was in a strange mood. The drive back had been horrendous. Jon had pouted in silence all the way home. She’d tried to talk to him but after the first hour she’d stopped and had turned to watch the scenery flash by. It had been a long and uncomfortable drive back from New Jersey. Jon had walked into the house, dumped his coat on the sofa and headed off at such a speed she hadn’t been able to see which room he’d headed for. She’d heard a door slam and had decided not to follow. Instead she had taken the opportunity to go through all the memorabilia that Jon had collected over the years. She tried to lose herself in the old memories that Jon had built up but couldn’t shake the feeling that she was in some way to blame for his mood. There was a thought that had been swimming round her head for a while, really, ever since Jon had brought her to his house. Abby smiled wryly. She thought of it as home but it wasn’t really, was it? It was Jon’s home and she was just a guest, albeit a guest who was sleeping with the owner. Somewhere out there was her home, with all her belongings and a sense of who she was and she was just treading water here. The thought just wouldn’t go away. It was in this pensive mood that Jon found her, blindly staring at the tv screen blaring away.

“Hey babe, watcha doin?” he asked as he breezed into the den. A younger, fitter version of himself was running about on stage and he grimaced as he caught sight of himself.

“Abs?”

He muttered to himself as he looked for the remote to turn off the TV. ‘How the hell can you hear me with this playing loudly?’

He picked up the big remote control and clicked the TV off.

Abby came out of her reverie as the absence of noise filtered through to her. She turned to the man standing beside her.

“Jon!” she exclaimed, “Sorry I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Apparently so.” He drawled

“Sorry?” she asked, not getting it.

“The music? It was so loud, no wonder you couldn’t hear me. I called you a few times but got no reply. This den is sound proofed, so I couldn’t hear you had the TV on until I came in.”

“Sorry I didn’t think you’d mind loud music.”

“It’s ok babe,” he sighed, “Listen, I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

Abby reached up for his hand, marvelling at the warmth of his flesh.

“Come and sit-down Jon, I need to talk to you, and thank you. You really were in a shitty mood and it’s good to know it’s not me. I was worried for a bit that it was, that you didn’t want to take care of me anymore.”

“Oh hey hon, it wasn’t that, it would never be that. I like having you here…love having you here.” He said softly as he sat down next to her, not letting go of her hand.

“So…” he began, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Who am I Jon?”

Jon felt the smile slip away and his stomach began to churn.

“Erm, you’re Abby.” He stated baldly.

“I know that, silly, I mean who is Abby? What does she like? What does she do for a living, where does she live for that matter? I have no idea who I am, and I think it’s time I started to…” she faltered as Jon’s face fell.

“What?” she asked softly, “what’s wrong? Don’t you want to help me find out who I am? I mean I’m not even the same person you met.”

“I’ve already said I didn’t know you that well before, and I like who you are just fine.” He replied, a hint of stubbornness in his tone. He broke away from her and stood up.

“Like?” she whispered, staring down at the floor, not wanting, not able to look into his face just in case.

Jon crouched down until his face was next to hers.

“Abby?” he said, tenderly, “Abby, look at me…please?”

Abby looked into his eyes, expecting to see pity and saw something else entirely.

“I love you.” He whispered as he brought his lips down on hers.  
Abby pulled away from his warm embrace, a wry smile on her swollen lips.  
“Nice try mister but you’re not going to distract me. I need to know who I am Jon. Don’t get me wrong, I love being here with you, I love the way you make me feel,” she smiled at the smirk on his face, knowing exactly what he was thinking, “in more ways than one,” she smirked back at him as she took his hands in hers, “but this…” she sighed, not knowing how to put her feelings into words.  
“I need to know Jon, I need to push myself to remember.”  
“And if you can’t?” he asked pensively.  
“And if I can’t, then I guess I let it go and live as a Swiss cheese.” She smiled, softly, a hint of sadness in her eyes.  
“At least you’re not a stinky cheese.” Jon murmured as he pulled her close, hearing her snort in laughter.


	18. Who would you die for?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I want to know your secrets and your sins  
> I want to feel you breathing out and in  
> I want to know, I want to know"

Jon lit a cigarette and sat back in the reclining chair. Over the past few weeks he had become a night owl again, as he’d been in the early eighties when he’d been trying to get noticed and had been using the studio in the wee small hours of the morning. He breathed the acrid smoke out and sighed. He was waiting for a call from Obie. Obie had called that morning but as Abby had been around Jon couldn’t really talk and so he was sat smoking at 2 am a few days before Christmas Day. Abby had already gone up to bed at about 1 am and he’d spend the past hour reflecting over what she had asked him a couple of days back; about who she was. From the tone of Obie’s voice Jon just knew he was about to find out.

Jon’s blackberry rang softly and he tapped it.  
“’lo?”

“Jon, it’s Obie, can you talk now?” Obie sounded a little pissed off.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Jon chose to ignore the sarcasm in the older man’s voice, for once.

“I got some info on Abby and it’s, well, it’s not good.”

Jon went silent. After all his pushing Obie for information, now he was about to hear it he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“Go on.” He said, steeling himself for the worst. He just knew she was married and that he was going to lose her.

“I managed to trace what happened to her after she ‘disappeared’ without a trace. She went to live with her paternal uncle and aunt and changed her name.”

Obie paused. “Listen Jon, I’m not sure delving into this girl’s past is really gonna help you know? “

Jon sat up straight. “Obie…”

“Jon I’m telling you, it ain’t gonna make a damn bit of difference whether you know her past or not.”

“Obie if you don’t tell me right now, I’m going to ram this phone so far up your ass you’ll be able to make internal calls.”

“Ok, but I know how you feel about her, Richie told on you, and I don’t want this to change that, ok?”

“Ok, jeez what the hell could make me change the way I feel about her? What? Did she kill someone?” Jon blew out angry air, his cigarette smouldering away to nothing in the big crystal ashtray by his side.

“Not exactly…” Obie began

“For fuck’s sake Ob, spill it..now!”

“She and her family were attacked on Christmas Eve 1986. Her father was stabbed, her mother was raped and stabbed, and Abby was left for dead. I’ve got a newspaper cutting giving the details if you want to read it but I wouldn’t if I were you. It’s pretty gruesome. They were found on Christmas morning by the aunt and uncle who had turned up to spend the day. Abby was in hospital for over 2 months, broken bones, abrasions…”

Jon looked at the wall in front of him, not seeing anything but Abby’s face, smiling at him.

“Was she…?’ he couldn’t even bring himself to say it as a pure white anger spread through his body. He wanted to find this son of a bitch and rip him in pieces.

The hesitation in Obie’s voice told him all he needed to know.

“What happened…after?”

“She went to live with her aunt and uncle and they changed their last name. That’s as much as I’ve been able to find out so far. All the records are sealed and as yet I haven’t been able to access them.”

Jon thanked Obie and set the phone down on the small table next to him. He felt sick. He kept seeing Abby’s face in his mind’s eye, drawn back in fear and terror and he wanted to kill.

Silently he made his way out of the room and up to his bed. He slipped in beside Abby and wrapped his strong arms around her, hoping her hair would hide the tears that fell. He felt her pain and fragility and wept quietly for what had happened to her.

Abby shifted in her sleep as she felt Jon wrap his arms around her. She snuggled back into him and fell back into a deep, warm sleep, feeling safe and secure.


	19. Let's make it baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When I look in your eyes I can feel the fire  
> A see through disguise cant conceal desire  
> I've been readin' your lips, they don't need no translation  
> They want more than a kiss, I come to make my donation"

Abby woke to find herself encased in Jon’s warm embrace. She smiled and snuggled closer to him, pushing the heavy quilt away. Jon woke and, opening one eye, looked at the woman in his arms. He started to say something then the events of the previous night came flooding through and he couldn’t get any words out.

“What’s wrong? You looked like you were going to say something then stopped?” she asked, before continuing, “or are you just Mr sleepyhead this morning? I feel like I’ve slept forever. Can’t remember the last time I slept so well,” She sniggered slightly, “Must be you, you make a wonderful pillow.” she sighed and, closing her eyes, snuggled her head down on his chest, feeling the soft downy hair sponge against her cheek, as she burrowed down beneath the warmth of the quilt; protection against the slightly frigid air. It was early morning and the heating had not yet kicked in.

Jon tightened his grip on her slightly as he tried not to think about Obie’s report. Tenderly he pressed a kiss against her forehead, closing his eyes against anger that flooded through him. He took a moment to compose himself before opening his eyes again and looking at Abby, who was looking up at him quizzically.

She could see his eyes had darkened slightly. She took in the tenseness in his jaw and the thinning of his lips and knew he was angry about something. But what?

“Jon? Have I done something to upset you?” she asked, wondering whether he was still annoyed about the whole trip to his parents and running into his ex.

“What?” he looked at her, his features softening slightly as he looked at her face. She was chewing her bottom lip, something she always did when she was worried about something; usually Jon.

“No Abs, it’s not you, just something Obie told me last night. Something that I need to get to the bottom of.” he knew that he would as he said it, even if it cost him Abby. He needed to find out what had happened to her and who had done it.

“Oh ok,” she smiled, her face lighting. Sunlight streamed through the open curtains, illuminating her hair into a red gold halo. Jon reached out and grabbed a handful of the soft curls. He loved the smell of her hair; even though she used the same shampoo as he did, the smell seemed different.

She raised an eyebrow and smiled wryly at him. The invitation was not lost on him and he slowly reached down until his hand was resting on her shoulder. Slowly he peeled her away from him until she was lying on her back, smiling sensually at him.

“You are just edibly gorgeous, you know that…right?” he said as his eyes raked over her. Abby licked her lips and smiled at him. The quilt had been pushed off the bed and she was feeling the coolness in the air. Unconsciously she rubbed her arms, forcing her breasts to squash together. Jon’s eyes were almost black as he looked down at her. Abby smiled and slowly pulled down the straps of her top until she was bared before him. His cock leapt.

“You are just so fuckin’ sexy.”, he growled as he bent his head to kiss her. Her tongue duelled with his for dominance; knowing all along who would win. Jon spread his hand out over her breast before squeezing softly, feeling the taut nipple begging for release under his palm. “When I said edible…I meant it…” he whispered, his voice husky, as he bent to lave her breast.

Abby moaned softly, feeling the coolness of the air on her exposed skin where his tongue left saliva. She shivered as he licked and sucked on her skin, working his way down from her breasts to her belly. She reached down and ran her fingers through his thick lustrous bed head. Jon tilted his face so that he was looking her straight in the eye. It was all she could do to just lie there and watch as he traced his tongue lower and lower, his dextrous, nimble fingers untying her pyjama pants with ease and lowering them with consummate skill. Abby smiled as she lifted her hips slightly to allow the material to be pulled off her.

“Commando?” he murmured, looking at her freshly shaven pussy. Abby looked at him through her lashes as she bit her bottom lip, her eyes half closed, unaware of how wantonly adorable or adorably wanton she looked to him.

She hissed in pleasure and surprise as she felt his tongue lave her pussy in one long, slow swipe. Jon gently placed his palms on her inner thighs, pushing them, opening up her pelvis until she was totally exposed before him.

“Good thing I’m starving…” he murmured before burying his tongue inside her. His tongue laved the tight yet soft muscles inside, loving the taste of her juices that began to run slowly down into his mouth. Using his elbows as leverage he softly pinched her clitoris, feeling the sensitive nub harden under his touch. He spat gently onto it and began to rub; softly at first then harder as he felt her begin to struggle under his weight. A soft yet full fragrance hit him and he breathed deeply, his cock hardening even more at the scent of her arousal. She was all vanilla and chocolate and strawberry musk and he bit down, harder than he’d intended, as Abby shrieked at him.

“Jon! Fuck! That hurts…”

“I’m sorry baby, make it better.” he murmured, his strong, husky voice reverberating through the soft thin skin of her clitoris. He licked the sore spot and she moaned. Smiling to himself he bit her inner thigh, revelling in the soft fragrant skin. Abby moaned louder, as he began to bite and lave her inner thighs, his thumb circling her over sensitised clitoris.

“Oh my god…Jon…I think I’m going to cum…” she whispered through gritted teeth as he bit and sucked her silky flesh, feeling faint ripples.

Abby panted, keening through her teeth as silver snakes shot through her abdomen and groin. Her breasts ached to be squeezed and pinched.

Jon knew he had to fuck her soon or her was going to lose it. It was hardly his fault that she was so damn hot she made him hard even when she was wearing sweat pants.

Abby was almost but not quite at the abyss when Jon pulled away. She groaned in shocked outrage. She looked at him. How dare he pull away when she was about to orgasm. She glared at him, her eyes screwed up in absolute outrage.

“Jon? What the…” whatever she was about to say was lost as he plunged himself deep inside her, causing her shocked muscles to flutter spasmodically. Not giving her a moment to catch her breath he set up a relentless rhythm, driving his hard cock deeper and deeper into her. He hadn’t broken eye contact once.

“Abby, open your eyes, look at me. Look at me!” he commanded as her eyes began to flutter closed.

She opened her eyes, feline style, and looked up into darkened indigo eyes. She was panting hard as he ripped into her, his muscled forearms locked on either side of her, sweat dripping down. She smiled softly as she looked up into the eyes of the man she loved. She was lost in sensation, feeling lazy electricity all around and through her body, smelling his scent as it wound its way around her, entrapping her within his essence. Her legs were shaking, her skin goose bumped with cold sweat. Her stomach began to clench involuntarily as her orgasm neared.

Jon looked down at the woman he loved and knew she was nearing orgasm. He loved knowing that he was giving her pleasure. He pulled his torso up slightly and angled himself so that his pelvic bone caught her clit with every thrust. He only had to thrust once before she was a mass of writhing nerve ends, screaming out his name, her tight, hot flesh clenching around him. He only had to thrust one more time before he joined her.

“I love you.” he whispered as he rolled off and lay down beside her. Abby was very sensitive and he knew not to crowd her after an orgasm as she could get jittery and irritable. He had discovered that to his chagrin.

“I love you too.” she said, reaching out to pull him close to her.

“I thought you didn’t like to cuddle after sex?”

“Ah, I changed my mind, besides, I’m cold and you’re warm.” she laughed.


	20. Runaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No one heard a single word you said.  
> They should have seen it in your eyes  
> What was going around your head."

He looked around at the once bare plaster walls now covered with posters and magazine cut outs. It wasn’t fair that this man, this blond, blue eyed man had his kitty. He knew from the internet that the blond man had a house in the Hamptons as well as a mansion in Red Bank, New Jersey. A wave of anger swept through him and he wanted to kill. He could feel the blood rushing through his veins, the drowning sound of his heart beat, thundering through his ears. She was his and anyone who stood in his way was going to suffer the same fate. He smiled as he thought of the word suffer…oh yes, he was going to make Blondie suffer…His kitty cat needed to be taught a lesson. He could hear sirens outside and smiled. No one knew about this place. He looked down at the terrified woman strapped down on a gurney and smiled at her. Large, unfocused eyes stared back at him and she began to struggle, muffled shouts coming through the gag.

“Well, well, Melissa, this will teach you not to touch my kitty cat’s things.” he bent down to whisper into her ear. The young woman was hyperventilating, her eyes darting about in absolute terror, her breathing was heavy and panting as sweat dripped down her brow, through her greasy, lank hair and onto the stained sheet beneath her. She felt like her limbs were being ripped apart and her veins were being chewed up by insects with metal teeth. She needed a fix.

He smiled as he thought how easy it had been for him to get to her. He had found her, with the rubber still wrapped around her upper arm, floppy and unresponsive. It had taken him a matter of minutes to pick her up and carry her back to this room. His special room. Stiffly, he turned away from her and walked over to a small metal tray that seemed out of odds with the rest of the room. Large brown splashes dotted the walls and the cold, concrete floor. An old, cracked porcelain sink stood over in a corner, with a rusted tap coming out of the bare plaster. Water dripped slowly but insidiously into the sink. The sound of the water soothed his mortal soul.

Light glinted off metal. He smiled, the rank smell of iron, from the blood on the walls and floor, in his nose. Today was a good day. Slowly he turned back to Melissa and walked gradually; deliberately over to her, holding his hand out in front of him until she could focus on the scalpel. Her whimpers turned to screams as he advanced on her, all the while smiling at her.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Detective Luke Sutton opened his eyes. His head was pounding and his mouth felt like it had been stuffed full of cotton wool. He moved his head slowly from side to side and winced as his brain made a bungee leap inside his skull. Blearily he tried to focus on the bedside clock but gave up after a few seconds as the digits all blurred into one red light. He thought of getting up but his eyes began to close again. Soon he was fast asleep.

When he opened his eyes for the second time he looked at the clock again.

“Fuck!” he swore loudly, then froze as he felt movement in the bed next to him.

As quickly as his hangover would allow him, he turned over to a mass of platinum blonde hair and the evenings events rushed back.  
‘Oh shit, Veronica…’ he thought, biting back a groan. Although Veronica wasn’t a suspect per se as no body had been found, there was an unwritten rule that you didn’t get involved with anyone on a case, not until after the case, and sometimes not even then.

He berated himself as he pushed back the quilt cover and swung his legs out of bed quietly, so as to not wake up Sleeping Beauty.

His phone started to vibrate loudly from its place on the wooden bedside table and he lunged for it, hissing at it to be quiet.

He grimaced as he looked at the message

Sutton, get your ass to the morgue asap. Another body has been found. CP

Oh was he in the shit or what? A text message from Captain Philips. He dressed in haste and crept out of the gothic crypt otherwise known as Veronica’s flat. He snicked the lock shut quietly. Veronica turned over in her sleep and slept on.

 

This was the part of the job he hated the most. Looking at the sad remains of once vibrant people, though looking at the track marks and grey puffed skin of the latest victim, Luke was sure she hadn’t been that vibrant in life. She lay naked under a sheet on a metal gurney, the bottom of which was moulded to catch the blood. The ‘V’ incision at the top of her chest indicated that the autopsy had already taken place but he wrinkled his nose to indicate he could still smell the rankness of the room.

“So Doc, what do we have?” he asked, clearing his throat to try and dislodge the stink of death that coated the back of his throat.

“You’re late, so I started without you,” Doctor Benson peered at the younger man over his half-moon glasses, a wisp of greying hair peering out from under his surgical hat, “Female, mid to late teens, undernourished. The track marks would indicate some form of IV drug abuse, possibly heroin but the tox screen will tell us which drug. I’ve sent the samples off to the lab already.”  
“Anything on cause of death?” Luke asked, bristling slightly at the rebuke on his lateness.

“Yes.” Dr Benson replied, pulling down the sheet.

Luke tried to look dispassionately, like a consummate professional as he viewed the malnourished, skeletally thin young woman, laid out on the slab, but couldn’t. Four slashes adorned her torso. He sighed. Another Slasher victim.

“Ah, the slash marks. Nasty yes, but not the cause of death, oh and they were inflicted pre-mortem so she would’ve felt every cut. Pitiful thing.” Dr Benson looked at the young woman with a tenderness that Luke had never seen before.

“She reminds me of my granddaughter.”

Luke remained silent to give the old man a moment to recover.

“Anyway, as I was saying, the slash marks are not the cause of death.”

“then what is?”

“Patience, Luke patience. I’m getting to it.” the older man replied.

He bent over the body and lifting her left arm up, pointed to a long thin line along the side of the torso.

“That is your cause of death. A sharp thin blade into the portal vein in the liver. She would’ve bled out in minutes. Even if she had been rushed into surgery there’s a good chance that she wouldn’t have been saved.”

“Any ideas on the murder weapon?” Luke asked, intrigued, in spite of himself.

“A long thin blade. A stiletto or a scalpel at a push, but I’ll tell you, this guy? He’s had medical training. It takes training to find the liver on the first try.”

“Have you got her belongings? We need to ID her.”

“Over there.” Benson indicated a small, sad pile of manky looking clothing.

Luke took a deep breath and rummaged through the smelly clothes. This was his second most hated job, rummaging through dead clothes. He gingerly pulled out a grubby canvas wallet and opened it carefully, not sure what he was going to find inside. Back when he’d been a rookie he’d opened a purse to find three used condoms and a used tampax. Since then he’d always been careful.

He pulled out a tattered, bent up library card with a faded name scrawled on the back. He peered at it and could just make out a name of sorts. Johnston…something Johnston…Miranda…no, maybe Matilda…no that wasn’t right, that was an e after the M. Melinda? Melissa?

Luke had a sudden light bulb moment. He looked back at the sad remains of the young woman. The junkie he’d interviewed on his missing persons case. Luke didn’t believe in co-incidences. He’d interviewed her about one case and then she turns up dead, in another case. But what was it that connected the two?


	21. Something for the pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Loneliness has found a home in me  
> My suitcase and guitar are my only family  
> I've tried to need someone like they needed me  
> But I opened up my heart, but all I did was bleed"

“Abby?” Jon called out as he roamed through the upstairs of the seemingly overlarge house. Although he loved living in the Hamptons he was seriously thinking about selling up and buying a smaller property. When all of them had lived there the house had been filled with love and warmth and happiness, and now? All it seemed to be filled with was his bitterness and anger. Abby hadn’t deserved his wrath on the way back from his mom’s; she had done nothing to warrant it. She had done nothing at all, except step out in front of his car at the wrong possible moment and catapult herself into his life. The house groaned and creaked in the silence, pressing in on him, making him feel suddenly claustrophobic. There were twenty-one rooms in total in the house, and he felt like he’d searched all of them. There was one room he hadn’t been in, but he knew he wasn’t ready to do that. He wasn’t ready to confront the overwhelming emotions locked up inside him that threatened to destroy him with every waking moment; he kept them carefully locked up inside. His breathing was erratic and wild as he walked; locked in his mind. Why had he gone out that day? Why hadn’t he let Dorothea go as she’d wanted to? Why had his eyes closed at that particular moment? A lone tear fell from his eye before the steel cage of his mind snapped shut and his face hardened slightly. Not here, not now. He wasn’t ready damn it! He stopped walking down the heavily carpeted hallway and looked at the door in front of him. He reached out a hand, tentatively, and brushed the wooden door, tenderly. Surprised as it swung open slightly, Jon looked inside and all but snarled as he saw Abby sitting on the bed.

“What the… you have no right to be in here!” he shouted, storming into the room, “Get the fuck out of here right now. You can’t be in here.” He made a move towards her but she held her ground, sitting on the spacious double bed, crumpling the smooth white comforter.

Sunlight streamed through the white muslin curtains, illuminating a thick layer of dust. Posters hung lopsided on warm peach walls, dusty make up lay strewn haphazardly across shelves and a laptop sat, open, on a desk. The chair and the floor underneath were covered in clothes and shoes lay strewn under the desk. A hairdryer, still plugged in, lay on the desk at an angle, next to a hairbrush containing short blond hair. An open pot of hair gel had dried into a thick plastic blue gunk. He stiffened as he heard laughter and smelled apples. He stood in the middle of the room, looking around as if he had never seen the contents before. Everything seemed foreign to him. He ran a finger over the nearest shelf and stared at the thick dust on his finger. 

“I need to tidy this room up. I had no idea it was this...” whatever he was going to say was lost as another tear ran free and rolled down his face. He stumbled to the bed and sat down, blinded by tears. All the anger and fury he’d kept inside was trying to leak out and he battled the urge to scream and rip up everything in the sunny, bright room.

Abby looked up at him. She was cradling a photo frame tightly to her.

“Jon?” she said softly, keeping her arms wrapped around the photo.

“Jon?” she repeated, watching as he raised a tear stained face to hers.

“Whose room is this?” she asked, her voice full of choked emotion

“Hmm?” he murmured, not listening to her.

“This room. Who did it belong to?”

“Stephanie.” Came the reply, so low she had to strain to hear it.

“Who’s Stephanie?” she asked, dreading that the answer what be what she thought.

“My daughter.” The tears were flowing freely now and he blinked to clear them, his blue eyes dulled with pain.

Abby swallowed hard. She knew the answer but had to ask him, all the while not really wanting confirmation. 

“What happened to her?”

Fury rippled across his face and he tensed. Abby’s eyes widened and she shuffled back across the bed.

Jon sprang up and paced, relentlessly across the pale pink carpet with its red rosebud inlays.

“What happened? You want to know what happened. What happened to my beautiful, wonderful, funny, loving, smart, kind daughter who I love with all my heart? My firstborn, my child; the one woman I would have done anything for with no questions asked?” His voice cracked and he swallowed the lump in his throat. Pure, raw emotion fought with his steel cage for a moment before overwhelming his defenses.

With a roar that scared her, he shouted “She’s gone! That’s what happened! I took a corner too fast and slid on black ice. The car hit a tree and …”

Jon was crying fully; the emotional freeze had thawed and he slowly crumpled into a heap on the floor.

Abby looked down at the photo she had cradled, protectively, in her arms; at the young woman smiling up at the camera, her arms thrown around her proud, loving, laughing dad, and laid it on the bed.

She cradled Jon’s head on her lap as he wept, her tears dripping down onto his hair. They sat together until Jon’s sobs subdued.  
“Jon?” she whispered, holding him and rocking slightly, back and forth.  
“When did she die?”  
Jon lifted his head up to look at the woman cuddling him and wiped the moisture from his eyes.  
“Stephanie isn’t dead. She’s in a coma. Persistent Vegetative State the Docs call it. She’s alive but she’s gone. Her best friend, Arabella, she was the one who died. I’d known her since forever and loved her like family and I killed her.”  
“You had a car accident Jon. You didn’t kill her.” Abby said, looking into the wounded soul of the man she loved.  
He snorted mirthlessly and shook his head, misery pouring out of him.  
“I had the flu, I was on heavy medication and I decided to get behind the wheel to go get the girls. I decided to. No one made me. I made the decision. Dot tried to tell me I wasn’t well enough to go but did I listen to her? No. I’m the asshole who brushed her off and went out driving in the middle of an icy night under the influence of heavy flu pills and a shot of whisky. I’m the one who hit the tree. I’m the one who put my daughter in a coma and I’m the one who killed the sweetest girl. Me.”

“How did she die?” Abby asked. She was shocked to hear what he’d said but something was telling her that he had burrowed into a pit of misery and she wanted to see if she could help him out.  
“Bella? She went through the windshield. Stephanie hit my seat. I had an airbag but they didn’t.”  
“Did the seatbelts fail?”  
Jon sat back on his haunches and looked at the concerned woman in front of him.  
“Abby, why do you want to know all this? It’s my fault. I had the accident and a girl was killed. My daughter has extreme brain damage and is on life support for whatever life she has left. There’s nothing more to it.” He sighed, feeling his anger subsiding and the heavy weariness that had begun to lift settled back down on his shoulders.  
“No,” he said, softly, “they didn’t fail. They weren’t wearing them. I told them to buckle up but they were drunk, which is why I was picking them up from a friend’s house. In a few days it’ll be a year since the accident.”  
Jon, I’m so sorry this happened. I can’t express how sad this makes me but to me, it sounds like the only thing you were responsible for was the seatbelts and even then, you told them to put them on. They didn’t listen. Did you know they weren’t wearing them?”  
He shook his head, “No, I wouldn’t have driven off if I’d known.”  
“How did you hit the tree? Did you fall asleep?” she asked softly, not wanting to agitate the fragile man.  
“No, hit some ice, black ice I think. Slid out of control and hit the tree. I don’t remember all of it and I was knocked out by the airbag. I came too as I was being lifted out by a paramedic. Dot had gotten worried and called Obie who tracked down my cars GPS. He found us some hours later and…”  
“A few hours? My god Jon, anything could have happened during that time. What did Bella die from?”  
“Does it matter? She’s dead and it’s my fault.” He countered, getting up and pacing around the room.  
“Of course, it matters! Impact is one thing but a few hours? Hypothermia, bleeding out to name a couple of things. Both of which would not be your fault.”  
“But I drove. I knew I shouldn’t and I still did, therefore it’s my fault,” he took a deep breath and ran his hands over his face, “Look Abby, I know you think you’re helping but there’s nothing to help. I’m guilty of that girl’s death and that’s all there is to it. Now, if you don’t mind I’d like us both to leave this room so I can shut it up.”  
“But Jon…”  
“Abby please! Enough. Just stop, ok?” he looked so fragile and overwrought that she didn’t have the heart to argue back and, taking his hand, she allowed him to lead her out of the forlorn, forgotten room. She heard the door shut behind them and looked up to see the shutters go down over Jon’s emotions. She shivered slightly, fearing that whatever opening she’d glimpsed into his soul, had shut tight and this time it was permanent.


End file.
